


Steps

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Violence, loads of stuff man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 111,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many eons ago, Ambulon started as a field medic in a mining facility. How things have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided I would try and write out this fanon idea I have for Ambulon's past. While I'm sure it is nowhere near this extensive and melodramatic (unfortunately), the leg of a plot bunny bit me and I decided I'd give it a shot. I really hope this works out, but I can't say if I'll ever complete it, depending on certain circumstances. I do have the entire backbone for the story written out, so I know where things are going and how they'll end; though that might change, since that's not too uncommon. However, it's high up there right now as something I want to work on, alongside editing my original novel. This story is weaved into the main IDW storylines, starting before Megatron Origin and ending some years before the events of MtMtE.
> 
> For right now, the rating is at PG-13, but that may change.
> 
> So, reviews, comments, c/c - all welcome but, of course, not obligatory. Flames are welcome, too, if you so desire.
> 
> Prologue kindly beta'd by Dirge.

## Prologue

They say in that instant, as your spark separates itself from Vector Sigma, you will experience a sensation beyond any description. You are said to _feel_ all of Cybertron - her cities, her people, everything. You are one with the planet, but only for a few short seconds. The experience is so overwhelming, you forget it the instant Vector Sigma releases you from its tendrils, leaving you now a completely free, independent spark.

 _That doesn't make sense_.

"Vitals are stable."

_How would you know you felt anything if you can't remember anything?_

"... systems' online. Connections established. Sensor relays active."

_Unless someone actually did manage to remember the entire so-called 'indescribable' sensation. Still, the believability is too low. So, perhaps, studies were held? I can only imagine how they go about experimenting with these things._

"... detects CPU activity."

"... awake then?"

"Yes."

_Of course, it could just be another part of the entire Primus mythos--_

"Well, _wake him up_!"

The snarl registered as a sharp cry in his recently activated audiols. He winced, optics flying open, only to curse at the intensity of the light above his head. His HUD assured him his optics were not damaged, despite the fact the first thing he used them on was a blinding ray of light. They powered down and he laid back, allowing his system to auto-adjust his optics. He could hear more murmuring around him, but for now, focused on playing catch-up.

A moment later, that gruff voice asked, "How do you feel now? Activate your optics."

He wished he could wait another minute, but... Slowly, the light returned in his optics. Still using only 75% of his vision-sensors, the yellow was dim and optics hooded. He raised his head, and found himself staring into one foul looking, too-tall mech's face at the foot of his berth. There were other people around him - doctors - fussing with the machines before leaving.

"Good to finally have you online, medic," the mech said, firmly.

He blinked. "Where am I?" He glanced around; looked like an infirmary.

"MF5-8 Medical Clinic," the mech answered. "Now, I'm not one for talking, and we've both got a lot of work ahead of us, so I'll make this quick. Please refrain from asking any questions until I've finished." He stepped forward, ramrod straight, hands folded behind his back like a proper military soldier. "I am Armorshield. I am warden to Sectors 5 and 6 of the Tarn-based mining facilities. It is my duty to keep these facilities as well as my people in order. One deca-cycle ago, we lost our field medic down in the mines. We commissioned a new replacement from Iacon, but were informed there would be a wait up to three meta-cycles to a deca-cycle."

He noted the sudden disdain in the mech's voice. One suiting someone with a grudge. "With some further... persuasion, Iacon agreed to dispatch us a replacement within the next few orns. Approximately two orns ago, you were fitted with a frame and shipped to us before your systems went online. While most medics spend years in comfy academy classrooms, neither of us can afford such luxuries." Armorshield nodded at him. "When you arrived here, we had to change some things. We installed a few medical programs. Access them if you so desire - you have one klik."

He was frozen a moment, but then Armorshield cleared his throat and he nodded. He ordered an open execution of these medical files. Found there were quite a few in his programming. Besides all the typical records on Cybertronian anatomy and chemistry, there was basic first aid as well as files on preforming a variety of general surgeries. None of which were very complicated. All and all, very basic, but it would get him by. Certainly meant he would be able to skip a few years at the academy.

"Okay," he said a second later, looked up, "but--"

"You are to serve as Sectors 5-6's field medic," Armorshield interjected. Right, no questions until the ride has come to a complete stop. "You will be working alongside Fissure, Chief Medical Officer, and his assistant, Extorque. You will receive more details about your work from Fissure. I will provide you records of your coworkers so you may familiarize yourself with who they are." He eyed the smaller mech. "Because you will be spending most of your time working in the mines, we had to refit you with more suitable equipment. You will adjust quickly to your environment with these modifications."

Armorshield raised his head, stared down his nose at the infantile Cybertronian. "Now," he said, staunchly, "any questions?" His tone, of course, suggested there shouldn't be any.

However, there was one. Just one he had to ask. It was only logical, after all.

"What is my designation?"

Armorshield stared a moment. He pointed to the ID tag around the patient's wrist.

\---

"Well, at least it's a cool name."

"What'd you say?"

Ambulon widened his yellow optics, turned to regard the giant mech sitting beside him on the packed bus. "Nothing," he replied, smiling crookedly. The mech snorted and looked away. 

Ambulon sighed and sat back again, spreading his gangly arms out in his lap. He studied the dozen other passengers joining him on this eeriely quiet ride. All big, burly Cybertronians, clearly made for construction and hard labor. And... There he was. Thin, stringy Ambulon with a new, shiny coat of purple-black-blue paint. Naturally, he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, but the skeevy and suspicious looks sort of made it hard for him to relax anyway.

Armorshield insisted Ambulon be sent to work immediately, despite one doctor's suggestion he remain bed ridden another day, to monitor his vitals and make sure everything remained in order. Sound and logical medical advice; Ambulon would suggest the same thing. But, of course, there was no use in arguing with the warden. So, not long after the news was dumped in his lap, Ambulon was out of the clinic and put on a bus heading for mining facilities Sector 5 and 6.

He wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't been tossed out so quickly to appease the rather restless, disgruntled warden running the mines.

That was another thing - the mines. Outside Iacon and along the borders of Tarn, thousands of miners were hard at work gathering the energon and resources desperately needed to keep their planet thriving and alive. It was a rough and tedious job from the looks of the miners seated around him. Also by the looks of them, it wasn't a very fun or safe job, either. Ambulon's spark fell in his chest; oh, good, now he was even _more_ excited to get to work.

Nonetheless, Ambulon did not whine or complain. That would get him nowhere, and solve nothing. Back in Iacon, he might have been sent to school, but here... Welp, fresh out of Vector Sigma, right into the nittygritty. Not many medical amateurs had that going for them. They had to _wait_ and study for years before they could even think about treating a large boo-boo. So... there was that, he supposed.

They arrived at the site some twenty minutes later. Ambulon discovered that the mines were extensive, and cut off into sections deep underground. Sectors 5 and 6 covered nearly five miles (not counting the actual depth of the mines), and would serve as his post. These sections were the closest to Tarn, however, with the city about a half-mile in the distance.

Walls were constructed around the sectors, probably as a safety precaution Ambulon turned in his seat to stare out one dirty window, trying not to touch the annoyed looking mech beside him. Guards roamed the area like patrol men, and really, he was staring to wonder if he'd been shipped off to prison by accident. The bus lurched to a halt, and Ambulon was nearly crushed as he was forced to move with the crowd of bigger mechs, shuffling out the vehicle. He turned and watched as the bus they had been riding transformed into a Cybertronian, wandering off with heavy footfalls.

Ambulon moved out of the way of traffic, next to one of the towering walls. He flicked his wrist, and a holographic map popped open from his hand. It matched the area perfectly: two large buildings, each twelve stories, on either side of the main entrance to the mines below. The buildings served as the miners' quarters, he was told. Soon he'd be taking up residency there as well.

However, Ambulon had a schedule to keep. He gathered in line with the miners he road with as they loaded into the steel cages. Naturally, he was squished and pressed against the steel bars; no pain, no gain, he figured. After each of the ten cages were filled to maximum capacity, the cables groaned as they were lowered into the ground.

The darkness was the first thing he noticed upon his ride down the pitch black tunnel. Not even twenty feet from the surface, and Ambulon was forced to switch his optics to full power. The smell hit him next; dank and almost mildew-y. It filled his olfactories and he coughed, rubbing his nose. Soon, it was replaced by the dust and grime of the material the miners harvested.

The ride had been rather short. When the cart hit the bottom, Ambulon stepped out first, shoved away by the miners quickly heading to work. By his calculations, he was almost three point two miles beneath Cybertron's surface. Ambulon paused and looked back up thorough the tunnel he'd just descended. Couldn't see anything; the lights of his bright yellow optics pierced only a few feet of the darkness, but nothing more.

"Ah! Ambulon! We've been waiting for you!"

Ambulon blinked and turned. A tall mech covered in soot and wearing a security badge approached him, grinning. "My name is Sharpshift," he said, placing a hand to his spark. "I'm chief security officer around these parts; I basically run the task force down here. Keep the boys in line, y'know? Armorshield's got the surface, I got the business below."

Ambulon was momentarily distracted by the distant sound of tools at work down the tunnel. "Right," he said, "nice to meet you."

Sharpshift gestured him over. Ambulon shuffled up to his side, and then a big arm was thrown over his shoulder, leaving behind a dirty hand print. Ambulon scrunched his nose at the mess, allowing himself to be guided along. "We're so relieved you're here - and so soon! I don't think we could have waited another day without a new field medic."

"As I gathered, your previous field medic was killed during an accident a deca-cycle ago," Ambulon said, looking up at Sharpshift. "My condolences."

Sharpshift sighed. "Well, it's the risk you take working in a dangerous environment like this." He smiled again. "But you'll get used to it. You'll see."

"Hmm."

"Here we are!"

They turned the corner, and Ambulon's spark skipped a pulse. Far beyond the visual capacities of his optics, he could see hundreds of miners hard at work. The mines formed a variety of shapes into the ground. From deep holes, to rings, to spirals; the black underworld was a mix of purple and white from the glow of energon, stones, and the lights the miners carried. It was both frightening and yet intensely beautiful.

"Welcome home."

Amublon looked up. Sharpshift continued on his way, expecting the medic to follow. He quickly scampered back to his side, just as the security officer pointed to a hollowed out part of the nearest wall, with windows that overlooked the workers. "That's your medbay, where you'll be working. My office is next to it," he explained. "I'm sure our warden told you about your coworkers."

"Chief Medical Officer Fissure and his MA, Extorque," Ambulon replied. "I was given a few of their records to study on my way here."

At that moment, a golden mech crossed one of the windows, disappeared; a second later, he walked back, green optics staring at Sharpshift and Amublon below. "There's Extorque!" Sharpshift laughed and waved. The mech narrowed his optics and once again marched out of sight. Sharpshift's smile began to wane, his hand lowering, and Amublon looked at him, confused. "Yeah, y'see, Extorque and Tightclinch - the 'bot you're replacin' - were rather close. You can imagine how hard it was for him when he wasn't able to save his best friend, so seeing someone take 'Clinch's place... Well, it's not easy."

Amublon frowned. "I'm here to serve as a replacement, not to fill in for his deceased friend."

Sharpshift widened his eyes, his shock subsiding into laughter. "Wow, kid, you have some bite to you." He smiled and heartily slapped Ambulon's shoulder. "We need that sort of spirit around here."

\---

Once they reached the medbay, Sharpshift traded Ambulon off to the CMO, Fissure. He was an old, but friendly mech; unfortunately, he had been called out and Ambulon was left with Extorque. The two stared at one another, Ambulon fidgeting.

"So, um."

Extorque sighed and lowered his datapad. "Let's get this over with," he snapped. Ambulon widened his optics. "Do as you're told, never disobey a senior officer or superior, stay out of my way, and, above all else, keep this in mind: if you frag up down here, you're dead. Got it?"

Oh, this would be fun.

On Ambulon's first day, not much happened. A couple miners came in for wound repairs or patching up. One for their routine physical. Amublon would have happily offered his services in the more mundane tasks, but Extorque was quick to shoo him away. "You're a field medic," he snapped, guiding the miner over to the exam bed. He glared, green optics flaring. "Your work is out _there_."

Ambulon frowned, but said nothing. When it finally came to doing his rounds, he gathered up one standard medikit as well as an emergency kit. The unit and Sharpshifter had given him a layout of the sections he would be working in, so at least he knew his way around. Still, even going by the maps, the place was so immense and vast. He stopped on his climb up one long, mech-made road winding up along a far wall to peer down. There were six rings total, miners working inside each one, going so far down Ambulon had to lean forward and squint. He gasped as he nearly tripped, quickly throwing himself back against the stone.

Ambulon returned to more stable, lower ground, went about introducing himself as he checked for any signs of injury or illness. Most of the miners ignored him; some stopped to snort and jeer. One even two sizes smaller than him lowered his pick axe and laughed, "Oh, geez! What's the new field medic doin' look so weak like yerself?"

Ambulon scowled. "If you're questioning my abilities, rest assured I'm capable of hauling something three times my own weight." He huffed. "And someone twice my size as well."

The miner snorted. "Yeah, well, good luck wit that."

Ambulon quickly went on his way. Nearly finished with his round, he transformed, his alt mode a combination of a stretcher and medical van. Easy to transport patients. He guessed Tightclinch had a much more interesting, larger alt mode, given how much heckling he received while speeding past the miners.

At the end of the day, Ambulon had done absolutely nothing. There was no one in need of his services. And whenever he tried to help around the office, Extorque would chase him away. He knew the mech was just lying when he said this wasn't part of his job. Extorque had not yet come to accept his friend's replacement, and Ambulon had the feeling it would take a long time before he did.

As the miners packed up and headed back to their quarters, Ambulon found himself filing in line into the steel carts. He was small compared to most of the giant miners, squished in the middle of a group of them filling the cart near maximum capacity. He held on, however, didn't try to nudge for more room or complain. Though he did cycle in a long, hard gulp of fresh air.

Ambulon was taken to his new quarters, in a building shared with one hundred miners. Tightclinch's quarters were now his. Ambulon didn't know why he was surprised - his room was small, compact, and cramped. There was a berth and there was a desk with a chair - probably left behind from the previous tenant. A single window peering out into the distant city of Iacon right above his bed.

Well, whatever; he could live just fine here. He deposited the very few belongings he had on the table, quickly did a diagnostic scan on his systems. Because he was built to work in the mines, its dirty environment had no effect on him or his filters. So at least he didn't have to worry about his body getting clogged and bogged down with abrasive chemicals and dirt.

Ambulon sunk back into his berth. It was rather comfortable, to his surprise, though it could afford to be a few inches longer. Nonetheless, he crossed his hands over his chest, switched off his optics, and powered dow-- Ambulon's optics flew open, bright, at the sound of very, very loud, obnoxious, heaving snoring on his left. He slowly turned his head to the side, stared.

Walls like tissue paper? Of course.

Ambulon grumbled and turned over, back facing the wall. He switched off his audiols, and offlined his optics again. Not even five minutes later did they open, hooded, and Ambulon simply... laid there. Staring at the ground. His chronometer clicked, reminding him it was now midnight and he had seven hours to recharge.

It wasn't much, this room, but it would do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambulon bonds with new friends, and tries to make one out of Extorque. Too bad his colleague is so ridiculously damn bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should probably put up a key for time measurements, ey? Right. It's all rather scrambled and jumbled. Hey, just like Transformers logic!
> 
> Cycle = year; deca-cycle = month; meta-cycle = week; orn = day; groon = hour; klik = minute. Certainly more will be added, but these are the ones currently in use.
> 
> As always, please pardon any grammatical errors and/or canon inconsistencies (canon makes a mess of it all ready, you see). uvu

Mining Outpost C-00. 

One of the very few mining facilities on Cybertronian shores. Consisting of twelve sectors, each scattered throughout the planet. Sectors 5-6 closest to the city of Tarn, neighboring Sectors 7-8 and the MF5-8 Medical Clinic. S5-6 covers two miles worth of land, with depths reaching well into ten miles below surface. The S5-6 consisted of nearly one hundred and fifty-eight miners, two hundred and seven officers and miscellaneous staff, and three medics on sight.

Absolutely ridic--

"Put yar baaaack into et! Put yar baaaaack into eeeet!"

"Shut up!" Ambulon heaved, finally reaching the top. The miners laughed before one came over, taking his scrambling hands. He was hefted up onto solid ground again like he weighed nothing. They continued cackling as the field medic brushed off his frame.

"Only a meta 'ere an' lookin' good all ready, luv," the largest miner sneered.

Ambulon frowned and glanced at his chest. He'd stopped applying fresh coats of paint to all the nicks, dents, and scrapes after three days in. His white face was ashen gray, optics smeared with grime, and he could feel dirt and sand in every bit of his joints. Though at least the modifications courtesy of the hospital kept him from falling apart completely as well as choking his ventilation system. Ambulon was sure any average surface mech would suffocate after a day in these mines.

"Yeah, well, it comes with the job," he snorted, and the miners guffawed.

"Oi! Ya think _you_ got it rough?"

Ambulon pointed at the giant miner. "I have to haul your afts back to the infirmary, you know." The laughter now turned in his favor. For a moment, the miner glared at him with dark, clouded optics, and the temperature dropped a spike-- The miner's optics lit up and he laughed uproariously. Ambulon put on a lopsided grin.

Since his arrival, he believed the miners were all a bunch of dumb lugnuts with short tempers. While many were, unfortunately, Ambulon was lucky enough to have met this miner, Zel, and his crew. They all seemed to actually _enjoy_ their work. Which was a breath of fresh air - well, the _only_ fresh air in these energon tombs, really.

"Now," Ambulon said, brushing dirtied hands on his dirtied hips, "where's my patient?"

Zel and the others led Ambulon down another narrow path into a shallow mine. He didn't want to know how he was going to transport the patient back to the medbay since he had to climb to get up here. "We tell 'em we need oos another road, but they dun evar lissun," Zel explained, as if he had been reading the medic's mind clearly. "Says it's a waste o' credits. Dun need it an' all."

Ambulon snorted. "Obviously we do, if it keeps the other medics and I from tending to wounded or dying patients."

"Kickspeed ain't dyin' none."

"I'm just trying to make a point."

Another miner - Zing - snickered. "That's nothin'. This place is a hot spot of accidents waitin' to happen," he explained. "Out of all the sectors, ours is the worst. Bad Death." The miner beside him made an annoyed sound. "That's why we need a field medic. Couldn't risk goin' too long without one."

"Maybe you wouldn't need so many medics if the place wasn't in shambles?"

"We're miners, luv," Zel noted, moving around a hunk of rock, "we just mine. S'all thas expected of oos."

The group turned to follow before finding the wounded miner, Kickspeed. His foot had been torn open, from the looks of it. Ambulon put aside his disdain for the place; tapping the side of his head, the scanner flipped forward over his right optic. He knelt beside Kickspeed, assessing the damage.

"Am I gonna be okay?" Kickspeed asked, fretting. "I mean, did I lose too much energon? Is there an internal rupture? What if some of the soot got in--"

Zel and his colleagues laughed. Ambulon kept to his task of scanning the broken foot. "You can tell Kickspeed's never been seriously injured on the job," Zing said. "He's always so paranoid, 'fraid of even getting a nick to his paint job."

"I wasn't built for mining, you know," Kickspeed whined. He frowned and added, "Besides, what's wrong with being cautious? It's worked so far."

"Up until now."

"No, that was just fraggin' negligence on your part!"

Zel bent forward, a looming shadow over the doctor and wounded miner. Kickspeed looked horrified, but Ambulon was still hard at work. "Oh, so yar wantin ta put tha blame on others, are ya?" Zel sneered, squinting one optic. "What's the matter, Kicker? Cannae even own up to yar mistakes?"

Kickspeed gulped loudly. "... I... I." He twitched and bowed his head, appearing smaller. "No," he whispered in a tiny voice a second later.

Zel eyed him. He smiled again and pat the young miner on the head. "Thatta mech!" he chortled. "Yar gonna learn that in tha end, we gotchyar back, but we dun take no blame for nuttin' we dinnit do, y'see."

"I... I see."

The visored miner leaned forward and snickered, "If you turn on one of us, you turn on us _all_. You don't want that to happen, now, do you?"

"N-No."

"There. Done."

The group all blinked simultaneously and looked down at Kickspeed's foot. It had been welded closed and cleaned - to the best of Ambulon's abilities, given the environment. Ambulon tapped his head and the scanner recoiled, disappearing in a wink of light. "Superficial," he said and stood, brushing off his knees. "Don't apply too much pressure for the next few orns, and you'll be fine."

Kickspeed widened his optics. He touched his foot, awed. "I thought... I thought I was gonna get Miner's Rust..."

Everyone laughed, save the medic. "You would have if you left the wound open and didn't seek immediate treatment," Ambulon explained. "Your injury was not extensive, fortunately. Miner's Rust is slow acting. Would have taken some time before you'd notice any change." He turned to Zel. "And you should thank your friends here. Even though Sharpshift would reprimand them for leaving their posts to see you got help, they took the risk anyway."

Kickspeed stared at Zel and his big, friendly smile and warmly glowing purple optics. He smiled shyly back. Ambulon held out a hand, helping the young miner back to his feet. "Thanks," he muttered, then turned back to Zel and his group. "And... thank you guys, too."

"It t'weren't nuffin'," Zel reassured. He slapped Kickspeed hard on the back, nearly knocking him over.

"Course you know if we had been caught by Shifter," Zing chimed in, "we were gonna take some of your credits we'd lose for flagging down the medic here t'save your scrawny aft."

Kickspeed's mouth dropped open. "You fraggin'--!"

"Not much different from the streets, now is it, luv?"

Ambulon snorted. With everything back in order, he headed off without saying goodbye.

\---

While not quite sure if he was either grateful or a little too eager, Ambulon had not yet been faced with a serious challenge. There had been no emergencies to be accounted for. Most of his time spent out in the mines was repairing minor injuries and aches and pains. Nothing the workers needed to be seen for by his superiors.

Though whenever Ambulon returned to drop off his medical reports (no matter how insignificant, records needed to be kept up-to-date on the miners' health), Extorque would give him That Look. He'd narrow his optics and the corner of his flat frown would twitch; Ambulon had become familiar enough to coin the expression as That Look. Extorque need not know this.

However, eventually Extorque would have to get over the grieving process that included alienating the mech who took his deceased compeer's job. There was no reason to blame Ambulon, in any case. Though Extorque had been rather chilly and curt instead of outright obnoxious and mean, it was still highly unprofessional.

Ambulon thought teams worked, well, together.

Twenty minutes later, Ambulon arrived back to the small medbay carved into the side of the wall. Fissure was at his desk, absorbed in whatever he was reading, idly tapping the edge of his stylus against the datapad. Extorque was nowhere to be seen. Oh, well.

Ambulon sat at his small desk, quickly accessed Kickspeed's patient file. He added the recent mishap into his log. Standard protocol Ambulon would find boring if he had anything else to do. He finished the datalog before the door slid open and Extorque walked inside. The field medic looked up at his coworker.

Ambulon hesitated a moment. He'd been here over a week now, and Extorque had said barely anything to him. Finally, he turned in his seat and asked, "Did Sharpshift agree to the expansion?"

The other day, Extorque had been speaking with Fissure in regards to adding more onto the medbay. He wished to speak with Sharpshift in regards to adding on. Of course, Extorque didn't bother telling any of this to Ambulon. He'd simply overheard. Nonetheless, the place was a bit too small, Ambulon agreed. While it was large enough for the biggest of mechs to move around relatively comfortably, it'd be nice to have another room; there were only four, and while Ambulon knew dire, urgent cases sent the wounded or dying immediately to the hospital, it'd still be nice to have a bit more space.

For a moment, Ambulon debated if Extorque wanted more space so he could relocate. His work center was right next to the newbie's. Ambulon cursed to himself; what petty nonsense. Extorque, while a bit rude, was still a damn good doctor.

Extorque looked down at Ambulon. That Look returned. Slight disgust in the optics, this time. That Look 2.0; not commonly used, but he had used it twice in the past. The golden medic glanced over at Fissure, who looked at him, remaining aloof and completely unaffected by all this tension. Fissure shrugged and went back to his datapad. Extorque turned to Ambulon, who tried to appear relaxed instead of antsy and anxious to either be chewed out or brushed off.

Extorque finally replied after nearly an entire minute of uneasy silence: "No." And that was it. No more further details. Extorque said one word then was gone. Ambulon wasn't really surprised, no, but the disappointment still bothered him a bit. Before he could fall into a pitiful sulk, the door slid open a second time, and a miner entered. He pressed a hand to his right hip, masking only some of his obvious pain.

"I've got an appointment with Ex," the miner said, pointing to one of the rooms.

"You're late," Extorque said, sticking his out from behind the second room's curtain, "come." He disappeared again, and the miner quickly met with him behind the veil.

Once they started chattering, Fissure put down his datapad and sighed. He stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, joints creaking. "Still see he's giving you the cold shoulder," he said, suddenly, and Ambulon blinked. He looked at the CMO. Fissure lounged back in his chair, relaxing. "He'll eventually warm up. Just give him another... deca-cycle."

Another deca-cycle? Ridiculous. "I don't understand why he's holding a grudge against me," Ambulon replied. "He's a sound, logical-minded medic. He knows better."

Fissure chortled. "He's also rather young. Not much older than you, you know."

"Still. That doesn't mean he should bring personal emotions into the workplace."

"Again, give him time," Fissure insisted. "Tightclinch was his one and only friend, you see. They were nigh inseparable. Wasn't me who showed Ex the ropes, but 'Clinch."

Ambulon frowned. "I read what happened to Tightclinch," he said, quietly. "Cave-in, right?"

Fissure exhaled, shaking his head. "Terrible loss," he mumbled. "It was... a mess. Given the circumstances of his death, Ex has found it even harder to move on."

"He was crushed almost completely, save his head."

"Eyup," the CMO said. "He died shortly after he arrived at the hospital. Ex wanted to go with him, but Sharpshift ordered him to stay behind to help me tend to the wounded." He frowned, sadly. "Extorque wanted to be there for his friend. He knew 'Clinch wasn't going to make it, but he wanted to stay with him until he passed. You know, to help comfort him until his final moments, I guess."

Ambulon almost started to feel bad for being so irritable with Extorque. Almost. "I see," he murmured.

"Tightclinch was also a seasoned medic," Fissure added. "So when this new guy comes to replace his friend, who has no experience and is freshly popped from Vector Sigma, it scrotums kind of like a low blow."

Ambulon cocked an optic ridge. "Do you feel the same?"

Fissure laughed. "No, not at all," he reassured. "I was just happy we got new help. Workload was starting to pile up with just Ex and I doing everything."

Ambulon nodded before a question suddenly reared its head. "I read Ex was sent to the mines to work after graduating from IMA," he said, squinting, "but... What about you? Why are you here?"

Fissure pursed his lips, optics rolling to the ceiling. "Oh... Nothing glamorous or interesting," he said. He looked back down at Ambulon. "I got tired with all the hustle and bustle of the city life, working at Iacon City Hospital. Stress was starting to overwhelm me. So I took sabbatical leave and, when I returned, asked for a transfer here." He tapped his foot for emphasis. "Thought I'd escape the crazy city life. Haha! Frag was I wrong."

Ambulon snorted. "Obviously." Who seriously thought relocating to work as a medic in underground mines was any less stressful than working in a hospital? He didn't question Fissure, but it did seem like a poor decision made by a relatively smart man. "Do you miss the city?"

"Oh, sometimes," Fissure agreed, nodding. "The company back home is, well..." He glanced out the window, watching a few miners shuffle by. "... A little more _stimulating_."

"They're not really built for conversation, I guess," Ambulon replied. He sat forward. "By the way - I just got back from tending to Kickspeed. His foot had been torn open, but it was relatively shallow. Patched it right up, ordered him not to apply too much pressure for the next few orns. So he may be dropping by tomorrow or so for another check-up."

Fissure blinked. "Kickspeed?"

Ambulon blinked in return. "Yes. Kickspeed is..." He paused and looked back to Kickspeed's still-open record. "M-82."

Fissure sat up. "Oh, yes!" he chuckled. "He's new around here, too."

"It strikes me as odd that nearly eighty percent of the miners here have no official designations," Ambulon mumbled. "Why is that?"

"Miners are..." Fissure eyed the room where Extorque was tending to his patient. "... Well, let's just say, names aren't really that important to them."

"Why?"

"Don't ask me," Fissure insisted, and he almost sounded uncomfortable. Obviously wanted to change the subject.

Ambulon, however, did not. "Kickspeed mentioned he wasn't built a miner."

"If I recall, no, he wasn't. He lived in Tarn, but due to criminal activities he was involved in, the Tarnian Law Enforcement sentenced him four cycles of hard labor."

"I see."

There was a sudden roar of noise outside, and both medics looked out the window. "Speaking of criminals," Fissure jeered. Down below, three miners were angrily squabbling, butting chests and snarling threats neither of the two could hear. Two of the miners were rather tall and bulky, but the third was small and lithe, painted in scraggly yellows and black. It was just him against the two giants from the looks of it.

"The sprat down there," Fissure chortled, "that's RiffRaff. He's somewhat notorious around these parts. Another criminal punished with mining duties." They watched as Sharpshift and two officers came down to break up the fight. "RiffRaff was part of a small gang in Kaon. His leader, infact, Jackup, was also sentenced to time down in the mines. However, Jack's in Sector 10 and 11."

"What were their crimes?"

"Besides being a bunch of trouble-making hooligans," Fissure snorted, "they dabbled in Stim dealing." Ambulon looked back at him, slightly confused. "At the time, Stim was a relatively new street drug Jack and Riff were peddling. Some energon mixed with a potent amount of stimulants, Stim was known to increase energy and dull the pain receptors. However, turns out that repeated, prolonged use of the drug causes the user to become delusional, aggressive, and violent." At that moment, Sharpshift was pulling RiffRaff off one of the mech's backs. "They claimed to sell it to 'help' the miners. In reality, they just found their best market and demographic and robbed the poor saps of their hard earned credits. Went on like this for a cycle and a half before they were apprehended. Riff got a much lighter sentence, though."

"How so?"

"Jackup, he was a flier," Fissure answered. "After one too many threats of escaping S10-11, they stripped him of his t-cog. Took it right out. He can't transform; can't even fly." He shook his head. "Imagine how hard that must be. I'm sure he didn't take it well at all, either."

Ambulon furrowed his optic ridges. "That seems a bit harsh."

"Not like he doesn't deserve it, really," Fissure said. He shrugged; the fight below had finally broken up, the parties separated. "Riff's lucky we haven't thrown him in prison. You know, he managed to actually smuggle a few vials of Stim down here not too long ago!" He jerked a thumb to the medicine closet. "Got them under lock and key in there. Been meaning to hand them over to Armorshield, but Sharpshift insisted they be kept here for the time being. Probably because Armorshield will likely deport RiffRaff and Shifter needs all the help he can get in the mines."

Ambulon snorted. "From what I've gathered on Armorshield, the idea of anything sneaking past him would send him into a raging fit. He'd probably unscrew RiffRaff's head and throw it in the tar pits instead of transferring him."

Fissure guffawed. "Now there's a morbid little thought if I've ever heard one!"

"Am I wrong?"

"Sadly, no. That _does_ sound like something Armorshield would do." Fissure's laughter dwindled into a light chortle, lacking amusement now. "The warden tends to be very... invasive."

The curtain to the occupied room was suddenly thrown open, and Extorque popped out his head. More of That Look. "Can you _please_ keep it down?" Though it was Fissure who just outright cackled, the surly medic was glaring at Ambulon. "I'm with a patient and I would appreciate it if you would act a bit more _professional_."

Ambulon's optics bugged from his sockets. Professional? _Professional!?_ It was Extorque who couldn't put on his big boy pants and get over his pathetic, irrational prejudice for Ambulon that made--

"Sorry about that, Extorque," Fissure apologized, calmly, holding up a hand to the field medic. _Relax_. That didn't help so much as drive the stake in deeper. Ambulon had no intentions of voicing his anger; _that_ would be unprofessional. Extorque grumbled something then went back to work. 

Ambulon felt a slight pounding in his temples. 

When everything was calm again, Fissure said, quietly, "Don't let him get to you. You've done a good job so far. He'll lighten up."

Ambulon said nothing, letting the coils of anger loosen from around his spark. He stood up a moment later, switching off his console. "My shift's about to start," he grumbled, quickly leaving. Once outside, he transformed and took off, ripping down the tunnels.

Once his stint here was over, in the future Ambulon hoped he'd never have to work with anymore bitter, stubborn, and splenetic doctors ever again.

\---

Ambulon had been half-way through his shift when he received the call.

There had been a few more bumps and bruises to take care of, but for the most part, Ambulon had been roaming freely with nothing to do. Just as he made his way into Sector 6, a rather unfriendly voice filled his audiols.

_Where are you?_

Extorque. This was a surprise. Ambulon continued driving, however. _The outskirts of Sector 6._

_What? You're suppose to be bringing M-12 in for his check-up!_

Ambulon slowed a little. _M-12? I was never notified--_

 _No, you know what? Just... Keep doing whatever it is you're doing. I'll handle the patient._ His voice dripped with barely concealed venom.

Ambulon's tires spit up gravel and rock as he came to a sudden, violent halt. His engines still roared as he transformed, pressing fingers to his audiol. "Wait! You never spoke to me about M-12!" he snapped.

_I left you his record on your desk, with orders for you to pick him up._

"There was no record on my desk!" Ambulon spat.

_Did you look?_

Now things were getting personal. "Listen, I am being honest when I say I never saw any record or notification on my desk. Fissure--"

_This is -your- responsibility. Don't bring Fissure into this to take the blame._

"'Blame'!?" Ambulon spat. "You're putting words in my mouth, Extorque! I was simply going to say, I contacted Fissure twenty kliks ago to ask for updates. He said nothing, that neither of you had any orders to dispatch."

_Well, obviously you heard him wrong, because I clearly remember putting the file--_

"There _was no file_!" Ambulon interjected. His fingers pushed hard against his audiol, nearly enough to dent the metal. "Unless you put it on my desk _after_ I went on my patrol. But I _never_ saw it on my desk before then."

Extorque gave an insufferable sigh. Ambulon wanted to rip out his vocalizer. _Forget it. I'm all ready in route to take care of it myself._

"Extorque, you can't--"

 _End of discussion_. A click, then silence.

Ambulon stared at the ground a moment. One hand still pressing too hard to his helm, the other closing into a tight, strained fist at his side. The anger was reaching explosive levels now, but... No. He had to be better than his ridiculous coworker. Spitting out a string of profanity, Ambulon transformed and went back to business.

Very, very angrily.

\---

It was a good thing that not even five minutes later, Ambulon stumbled upon someone in need of his help. He transformed and headed in the direction of the miner waving him over. Once close enough, he got a good look at the mech - tall, heavy-set, with blue optics and a crooked grin. He was clutching his right shoulder, kneading it painfully.

"How's it goin', doc?"

"What's the nature of the problem?" Ambulon asked, curtly. He knew he shouldn't take his aggression out on bystandards, but he also didn't care at the moment, either.

The miner seemed a little surprised, but otherwise brushed it off. "Think I pulled somethin'," he said, knocking on his shoulder. He winced. "Yeah, definitely pulled somethin'."

"Let me take a look."

The miner knelt, allowing Ambulon to easily access his shoulder. He moved the giant hand, scanner springing into action. A second later, he stepped back and said, "You've dislocated a pauldron scale. It's pinching two of your hydraulic pumps. If you waited any longer, you'd start losing sensation in your entire arm."

The miner frowned. "Is... Is it fixable?"

"Yes," Ambulon mumbled. "It shouldn't take very long." He summoned his tools, returning to the shoulder. "I just need to repair the displaced plating, open your pumps again." He forced open the seam a little wider.

The miner sighed, relieved. "Thank Primus." He turned his head, eyed the gangly medic hard at work. "Ain't seen you around here before. The new field medic, right? Name's Scrooseloose." He snickered. "S'what my friends call me. They say I've got too many screws loose for workin' in this part of Sector 6." He looked down. "Guess there's a fault somewhere under here. Lots of tremors and quakes. I'm used to 'em, though." He turned his head back to Ambulon. "What's yer name?"

"Ambulon."

"That's a cool name. Where'd you get it?"

"Look, I need to focus, okay?" Ambulon grumbled. The miner instantly stiffened, but went silent. Ambulon was just about to weld the misplaced armor back in place before... He chanced a look at Scrooseloose. He was surprised to find hurt on the big mech's face. And that... Ambulon returned to work. Grumbled, "It was given to me when I was first activated. I kept it."

Scrooseloose blinked and looked back at him. "Know who gave it to you? You didn't choose it yerself?"

"No, and I never bothered wondering."

Scrooseloose smiled. "Interesting." He held out a hand. "I mean, to you, it may just be some random name, but... It's yours, right? It's all yours." He shrugged his good shoulder. "Most of us don't have a name to call our own." He winced as Ambulon finally shoved and welded the plating closed. "Kinda stings."

"It should go away in a few kliks," Ambulon said. He made sure the hydraulic pumps were open and undamaged. Everything looked in order; he stepped back, placing his tools away. "Though, in a way, you may be luckier. You make a name for yourself. A lot of us, especially those of our function," he said, "we're just assigned one from the very start. Sometimes our names suit us, sometimes... Well, not so much. But I can't complain; mine's not bad."

Scrooseloose touched his repaired shoulder. "Names don't define us. They just help us get along in the world," he chuckled. "Thanks, doc. Feel one hundred percent better already."

Ambulon nodded. He then paused and glanced around the area. "You seem to be the only one working here."

"I'm all that's really needed," Scrooseloose explained. "I'm strong enough to handle the mining here by myself. That, and no one stays here for more than a couple orns or so."

"Why? Because of the fault?"

"Yeah," the miner explained. "Most of the big lugs like me are busy, put to better use elsewhere. So I always end up with the... Well..." He hesitated, biting his bottom lip.

"The scrawny guys like me?" Ambulon offered.

"Er. Yeah." Scrooseloose bowed his head. "No offense."

"None taken."

"But, yeah," Scrooseloose hurriedly continued, "the fault - it goes off at least once every meta-cycle or so. Most of the time, it's nothin'. Well, to me it ain't. The others, though - they either get injured or scared and ask for immediate reassignments and stuff. Like I said, the quakes aren't that bad and they only last a few kliks. The last time I was seriously injured from one of 'em was... Primus, can't remember. Can't even remember the injury, in fact." He laughed. "But then again, I've taken a lot of hits workin' in this area. You just sort of stop keepin' goin', you know?"

Ambulon hummed. "I wish they could station a medic out here. Or at least someone that could get to you sooner in case of a serious emergency." He looked around. This place was at least one and a half mile from the medbay, but it did take some effort to get through the hard landscape and over the various crevices. "If something were to happen, we might not make it to you in time."

"Aw, doc, it's nothin'," Scrooseloose reassured, shrugging. He winced at his repaired shoulder, earning a small scowl from the medic. "Though, I mean... The past few orns, the fault's been acting up a little more than usual. The last guy I worked with - he said it only meant something big was gonna happen." He chuckled. "No offense, but I've been workin' here far longer than he has. I don't really think it's anythin'."

Ambulon, however, wasn't so sure. "Still," he said, "I should speak to Sharpshift about this. Have an officer stand by in case there is a problem. That way they can help evacuate you, or be there until help arrives."

"I'm gonna be okay, doc," Scrooseloose insisted. "The fault'll calm down. It's been quiet all day, in fact."

"I hope that's a good thing."

Scrooseloose nodded. A second later, he said, "Y'know, I was beginning to think you were another typical gearstick." Ambulon snorted. "You seemed really upset fer some reason. But, well, you're not... So that's cool. I mean, Fissure's great an' all, but... I hear Extorque hasn't been doin' so good." He frowned, sadly. "Really misses 'Clinch. I knew 'Clinch, too; he helped me out around these parts a couple-a times. Extorque was with him those times, too. It was like one of those, uh, those weird cases where a spark splits itself in two and makes 'spark brothers' or somethin'. Yeah, they were somethin' like that." He smiled again.

Ambulon suddenly felt a little... guilty? Maybe. "Yeah. So I've been told."

"I think with you around, though, he'll cheer up."

"Pfft."

"Er, well, maybe." Scrooseloose patted him gently on the back. "But yer nice. He needs a nice, new friend."

"I... suppose."

Scrooseloose nodded. "Welp, I better git back to work," he said, left hand transforming into a drill with a rusty sound. "Tell Ex I said hi, okay?"

Ambulon nodded, faintly. "Yes. Okay."

As the miner went back to work, Ambulon wandered off. His mind was blank at the moment, optics transfixed on the ground. He walked a few more minutes, stopped. Pressing fingers to his temple, he sent out a private commlink.

It took a minute before Extorque responded, frazzled as usual. _What is it? Don't worry, I've taken care of--_

"We need to talk," Ambulon said, firmly. It was nothing but silence on the other end. "I don't really care what you think of me. How you feel about me. But we're colleagues, coworkers. We work as a team. You can hate or distrust me all you like, but we're lacking the unity we need in order to properly function as a unit. I'm not asking for you to open your arms and accept me as a friend, but I suspect you know this entire routine is getting old. And neither you and I can dance around the subject much longer."

Ambulon cycled moist, dusty air. "So, here's what we're going to do. After work today, there's a small makeshift bar the miners cooked up... Well, obviously you know that, but... I'll be there at exactly eighteen hundred hours. Your shift ends shortly afterward. I'll wait at the bar for precisely thirty kliks. Hopefully you'll come and talk with me. It doesn't have to be anything personal, but we do need to work _something_ out." He paused. "If you do not show by the very last klik of the half-groon mark, I will leave. No lingering, no waiting. But don't think for one moment that means I'm simply going to continue taking this sort of _unprofessionalism_ from you. It means I'll have Sharpshift intervene if I must."

There was no response, just a small hiss of white noise, signaling the connection was still open.

"You've got five groons to make up your mind on how this plays out," Ambulon said, firmly. He cut the transmission, and, for a few seconds, waited for a response. Nothing. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but hoped it meant Extorque was seriously thinking this over. Realizing the consequences of what would happen if Sharpshift got involved.

Not the nicest way to go about this, Ambulon knew. Backing the medic into a corner, holding a threat over his head. However, nothing had been very nice between them from the very start. Might as well continue the game until things were finally settled.

\---

Ambulon gave the medbay a quick look over for Extorque.

"He's not here. He had to run an errand," Fissure said nonchalantly, his face still buried in a datazine. "Want me to give him a message?"

"No," Ambulon said. He clocked out then, headed for the door. "See you later."

Fissure threw up a hand in response.

Ambulon quickly returned to the surface, sharing the steel elevator with a few miners. After depositing any tools he hadn't locked up in the medbay at his suite, he scrounged up a few credits and headed back outside.

Across the compound, a few empty storage cells with dome ceilings had been crudely welded together into a chain of three. Light, music, and laughter trickled outside from the matte bar's entrance. Ambulon looked at the title burned into the metal above the door: BETTER THEN NOTHIN.

Ambulon stepped aside, and was quickly assaulted by a variety of sights and sounds. Dozens of miners had gathered into the hollowed out, connected domes, mingling with one another. All very lively; he didn't expect that. Doodles and scrap metal art hung on the walls to decorate the place somewhat. Metal benches had been constructed to serve as the bar, with chairs and tables made out of junk and whatever the miners could find.

In the second dome, Ambulon could spot a thin mech perched on an oil drum. Strumming his instrument and singing the moody blues. His small audience swayed and shouted words of praise every time the sullen lyrics suited them. There was another source of music coming from the third dome; more upbeat and loud. It was obviously trying to drown out the blues.

Miners were situated behind the bars tending to their patrons; a few officers lingered nearby to keep things in order. They seemed to be having a good time as well.

Ambulon headed for the bar, sitting on a creaking stool. One of the bartender-miners approached him, asked, "What'll it be? Energon or energon?" He held up two cubes of liquid heliotrope.

"Just... energon?" Ambulon replied, a brow climbing beneath his yellow crest.

The bartender snickered. "Nothin' here that'll get you overcharged, if that's what you're hopin' for." He winked. "We don't get the good stuff for another two meta-cycles. Once a deca, the supers order in a shipment of high grade and oil for everyone. It don't last long, as you can imagine. But this stuff - there's plenty of it, so at least it's free. So..." He offered the cubes again. "Plain energon or plain energon? Choose wisely."

Ambulon weakly gestured to the cube in the bartender's right hand. 

"Ah, you've chosen our finest."

"Oi, look what the frizz rat dragged in!"

Ambulon nearly choked on his drink when Zel slapped him hard on the back. He sat the cube down, quickly wiping his mouth of spittle. Zel took a seat on his right, and Zing on his left. 

"Just the regular, Scamp," the giant miner ordered. Zing waved his hand; same. Once the bartender filled their orders, he headed off to check on the other patrons. "First time I've seen you 'ere," Zel noted, turning in his seat to face the medic. "Don't seem tha socializin' type."

"Business, not pleasure," Ambulon answered.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"An' that obviously means, 'dun pry, lunkhead'."

Ambulon shrugged. More or less.

"Well, 'til yar business arrives, 'ow 'bout you keep oos company?" Zel asked. Zing nodded in agreement.

Well... "I guess," Ambulon said, finally. He took a sip of his drink. "Got some time to kill, anyway."

"Tha's the spirit!" Zel laughed and once again nearly knocked the cube out of Ambulon's hands with a hard slap to the back. "Any luck wif Ex?" he asked. "Rumor 'as it yar not gettin' along very well."

Ambulon scowled. "A load of bosh."

"But is it true?" Zing chirped, curious.

Ambulon looked between the two miners. "Things are a little tense right now," he agreed, and Zel smiled victoriously. "But that doesn't mean we're fighting."

"Pretty sure it does, luv."

"Yeah."

Ambulon rolled his optics. Time to change the subject. "Why do they call you 'Zel' anyway?" He looked to the miner on his right.

Zing snorted. "After 'eczel', of course. E - C - Z - E - L."

Ambulon blinked and thought a moment. "Wait... Do you mean 'excel'?"

"What?"

"Yeah, tha's wot 'e means," Zel chortled. He leaned down to mumble. "Zing... Not tha brightest circuit in the board." He quickly sat up when the smaller miner turned back from admiring the blues' singer. "'Sides. 'Zel' 'as a lovely ring to it, though, don't it?"

Ambulon bobbed his head. "And what about you?" He pointed to Zing. "What's your name mean?"

"It means 'Zing'," Zing retorted. He blinked, a twitching frown growing on his face. "What? Ya got a problem with my name? Not _fancy_ enough fer ya, Mister Medic... Mech?"

Zel swung an arm over Ambulon's shoulders, the weight forcing him to slouch. "'E dun mean nuffin, Zing," he reassured. He prodded the medic in a shoulder. "Aren't one ta judge names, now are ya, luv?"

"Of course not," Ambulon grunted. He shoved Zel's arm off of him. "I was just curious, that's all."

"S'pose you've learned most offus dunnae 'ave proper designations," Zel said. "So we make due wif nicknames."

"I don't see _why_ you can't have registered names."

"Miners come in packs. Mass produced," Zing said, sucking down his energon. "Not important enough." He gave a loud 'faaah'. "The supers think we don't need 'em, not if we all ready got numbers to identify us."

Zel added, "An' cause we come in groups, we stay in groups. United together an' all that. We look out far each other; protect each other. 'Old friendship above everythin' else."

"Yeah!" Zing cheered with a mighty roar. "Ain't no one mess with us! We'll take y'all on!" He bent over and spit on the ground. Didn't seem to notice he actually spit on his own foot. Ambulon decided it was best not to say anything.

"Best of mates, we are," Zel chuckled. The miners clicked their cubes together front of Ambulon, then guzzled down their energon. Zel purred at the sweet taste, while Zing gagged from drinking too much at once. "An' though yar not one offus, Amby, ya take care offus an' yar a good mech. Keep it up, an' we'll watch out far ya, too."

"I appreciate it," Ambulon replied. "Speaking of friends," he said, "how's Kickspeed doing? I hope he hasn't re-opened his wound."

"Kick's just fine, no worries," Zel reassured. "Went back to tha nest moanin' an' groanin' about life bein' all unfair as usual."

Ambulon had only found out recently that the miners' called their living quarters 'the nest'. Apparently 'supers' was short for 'superiors', their bosses. They seemed to have their own names for everything, including Bad Death.

Zing nudged an elbow into his arm. "Kickspeed was gushin' all over you like some sparklin' when you left. Said you were soooo cool."

"We promised we wouldn't say nuffin' to Amby 'bout that."

"There's some ripples in your community," Ambulon sneered, earning a furious glare from Zing. "But..." He remembered his earlier conversation with Fissure. "I was informed Kickspeed is working in the mines as punishment by the TLE."

Zel nodded. "Four cycles down 'ere," he said.

"What exactly did Kickspeed do to wind up here?"

"Petty theft. Robbed a couple saps."

Ambulon widened his optics. "Why would they sentence an inexperienced mech clearly not built for your line of work to spend four cycles in the mines for petty theft? If anything, a few deta-cycles in detention would suffice and work just fine."

Zing sniggered. "Yeah, but..." He leaned towards the medic, snake eyes darting around the bar. "It was one of the mechs he robbed, y'see."

"Who?"

"Someone by tha name of Honorable," Zel answered.

"His name practically screams 'please dump and lock me in the nearest waste receptacle', don't it?"

"The fact is, Honorable's a noted politician in Iacon," Zel continued. "Guess 'e was in town ta deliver some sart of speech. Kickspeed - 'e's got tha word 'speed' in 'is name for a reason."

"Might have snatched up the Great Honorable's credits, but he sure didn't run fast enough to get away with 'em!" Zing laughed.

"If it had been anyone else, he'd get that detention sentence yar talkin' about. Thas wot 'e thinks. Kinda believe 'im."

Ambulon was astounded. Why should a politician get special treatment, but not the other mechs Kickspeed robbed? It didn't make any logical sense. Would his sentence have been lighter if he hadn't robbed Honorable at all? Actually, there was nothing honorable about any of this nonsense.

"Enuff about that," Zel said suddenly. He grinned all his stained denta. "I 'eard ya made friends wif Scrooseloose. Tha's real nice of ya. 'E's a bit shy an' awkward, so he dunnae have many friends. Good mech. Bit stupid, though."

"One day that fault's gonna go right to the Pit, and take Scroo with it."

"He did mention there had been more quakes than usual lately," Ambulon mumbled.

"Primus bless him," Zing sighed and shook his head. "We work in Bad Death, but sometimes I think he's got it worse."

"Ambulon?"

Both Ambulon, Zel, and Zing leaned back and looked to the entrance. A young officer approached them a moment later. 

"What is it?" the medic asked.

"Extorque sent me to deliver a message," the officer explained. "Says he won't be able to make it."

Ambulon frowned. "Did he say why?"

"No."

"What else did he say?"

The officer shrugged. "Nothing. He told me just to tell you he won't make it. No further details, no explanation." He looked around. "I can deliver a message for you, but uh, I'm off duty in five kliks, so..." Don't even bother.

Ambulon felt a processor ache coming on. "No. It's fine," he grumbled, and gave the officer a dismissive hand wave. The mech quickly trudged back outside.

"Wot were ya meetin' Ex 'ere far?" Zel inquired.

Ambulon pushed his half-empty cube away. "Apparently nothing," he said. He didn't stick around for questioning, and left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zel's accent is a clusterfuck of various dialects ranging between Irish and British cockney right down to _pirate_. It's suppose to be messy and, at times, inaccurate and buhhuh?. What? Human accents/dialects on Cybertron!? Why the Hell not, LET'S BREAK THE RULES ONE AT A TIME.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambulon is learning fast that there's a very poor, shaky, unequal relationship between the miners, the officers, and the outsiders.
> 
> Meanwhile, exposition continues to star as the main character.

Ambulon had given Extorque an ultimatum: attempt to make peace, or have Sharpshift intervene. He swore if Extorque did not make the call himself, he would take matters into his own hands and decide for him.

Actually... he hadn't, really.

Five days had passed since Ambulon offered Extorque the peace pipe only to be disappointed and later spend the ten minutes before falling into recharge planning how to approach Sharpshift about the entire situation. He found himself at Sharpshift's door the next day, went to page, but... After a moment's repose, he turned and went back to work. Ambulon swore he'd speak to Sharpshift tomorrow.

He swore that nearly four times in the next two days.

Ambulon wasn't quite sure why he didn't just go to Sharpshift. A nagging part of him believed it would only deepen the rift between him and Extorque. It wasn't as if he wanted to force the medic into a friendship - he just wanted a working, functioning partnership. Ambulon had perfectly good reasons to take this up with Sharpshift and sit Extorque down for a talk. Yet he didn't; and the more he realized he was hesitating, the more angrier he got. Five days later, it was mostly disappointment in himself for not taking action sooner that kept him away from Sharpshift's office.

Except.

Extorque wasn't exactly holding the threat above his head, either. In fact, ever since Ambulon spoke with him in an attempt to forge a partnership - albeit a futile one - Extorque seemed more lax. At the same time, however, he seemed more guarded. Beforehand, Ambulon noticed Extorque's defense mechanisms included a curt attitude, the cold shoulder, and That Look. Now, Extorque was less chilly, but a little more quiet.

Ambulon decided to test the waters, see if they had cooled somewhat. He approached Extorque on day three, and asked him a simple question. One that would get him a rather abrasive response, if everything was in order. Instead: "No," Extorque answered, calmly, "that's right." He then turned and left. There was no malice or disdain in his voice. Though he didn't exactly sound interested, it was a rather big improvement from the curmudgeon Ambulon had gotten to know.

Extorque would no longer go out of his way to avoid Ambulon. Would stop to talk with him quickly about a patient or hand him records. Though he showed no desire for conversation or idle chat, Ambulon didn't mind in the least. On the fourth day, while working at his desk, Extorque brushed by and said, "It was my error. I forgot to put M-12's record on your desk that evening." He sat a patient's file down then headed out for a break.

Ambulon was surprised, but Fissure even more so. Once he left, the old doctor pushed himself over to Ambulon's side, optics bulging from his head. "I'll be damned!" he half-exclaimed. "He actually apologized to you!" Took him a while, sure, but that didn't matter. "What'd you do? How'd you get him to lighten up?"

Ambulon shook his head. "Nothing, really," he said, and frowned. "Nothing that I thought I _should_ have done."

"Well, you did _something_ , kid," Fissure insisted, prodding his arm. "Ex is warming up to you. I told you he just needed some time. Soon enough, you'll be best friends."

Ambulon smirked. "I'm not looking for a miracle."

Though one thing had not changed. Not yet, Ambulon hoped. Extorque was still rather possessive of the patients. He reminded Ambulon his work was out on the field, in a tone that was slightly less biting than usual. Fissure, at least, allowed Ambulon to help out if necessary. Which wasn't often - Fissure was skilled, and took care of things easily. There'd been no major wounds to be accounted for the past week, so no need for assistance.

Still, Ambulon wished Extorque would at least let him sit in during one of the routine check-ups and just... watch him work. Get a hang of the ropes and see how the usual physical examinations played out. Not like he _didn't_ know, but that was besides the point. Extorque was a good doctor, but Ambulon had only seen the results, not the actual hard work and effort put into them.

Extorque, however, was not the only thing on Ambulon's mind.

Day six, and this time he did knock on Sharpshift's door, quickly beckoned inside. The office was much larger than the medbay. Instead of examination rooms, it had a few waiting prison cells. One wall was lined with security cameras located in various parts of Sector 5 and 6.

"I'll only be a few kliks. Hope you don't mind," Ambulon said, the door hissing shut behind him.

"No problem," Sharpshift inhaled. He sat back in his chair then swung his legs, ankle over ankle, on the messy desk. "What can I do you for?"

"A couple matters I'd like to discuss."

"I'm listening."

"First off, I'm concerned about Scrooseloose." Naturally, the security officer looked clueless about the nickname. "M-36. He's stationed at Sector 6's faultline."

"Ah, yes." Sharpshift nodded. "Strong fellow." He lowered his voice a little, added, "Bit stupid."

Ambulon frowned. Seemed Scrooseloose couldn't escape that insult. "Right," he said, "I'm concerned about his well being. He tells me usually there's no problem; that when the fault acts up, he only sustains a few minor injuries. Yet recently he informed me that the fault has been acting strange."

"Strange?"

"He told me there's a pattern to the fault. A certain series of vibrations. A regime. And lately, it's been off. He doesn't seem worried about it, however."

Sharpshift shrugged. "Then we shouldn't be either."

Ambulon's brow twitched. "Sir," he said, "I don't mean to step out of line, but don't you think you're being a little irresponsible in handling this matter?" The security chief visibly stiffened in his seat a little. "It takes a good while to get to Sector 6 given its distance and the rough terrain. I'm worried if something were to happen, we wouldn't get to Scrooseloose in time."

"So, what are you suggesting?" Sharpshift's tone was tight now.

"An officer to be stationed near the faultline," Ambulon suggested. "That way if there's any trouble, there'll be help immediately at hand. If Scrooseloose is incapacitated, the officer will be able to evacuate him and anyone else in the area."

"Who's to say the officer wouldn't be caught in the cave in?" Sharpshift pointed out.

"It's risky, I know," Ambulon agreed, "but I think it's worth it."

Sharpshift sized the medic head to foot. Ambulon remained firm in place. A moment later, he dropped his legs from his desk and sat upright. "The thing is, all my officers are currently assigned posts," he explained. "They're needed where they're at. There are two officers stationed a half megamile from the faultline. They will suffice."

Ambulon frowned. "That still seems too--"

"What do you suggest I do then, Ambulon?" Sharpshift folded his hands in his laps. "I cannot afford to make reassignments." He sat back, relaxing again. "You see, we've been following an order - a structure - here for a very long time. It's worked perfectly. I don't want to cause any ripples."

Ambulon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, then - what about a new recruit?"

"We can't afford that either."

"So, basically, there's nothing we can do?"

Sharpshift shook his head. Ambulon nearly crushed his nose between his fingers. "... Fine. I'll just make sure to keep a close optic on the place during my rounds."

Sharpshift smiled. "Sounds perfect!" He reclined his head to the side. "You said there were a couple things you wanted to talk about?"

Ambulon nodded. "It's about Fissure," he said. Again, the security chief seemed to go rigid, and Ambulon wasn't quite sure why. "He hasn't reported for duty in two orns now. I've tried contacting him, but it seems he's busy?"

Sharpshift scratched under his chin. "Fissure... had some things to do. Back in town. He'll return to work tomorrow."

"Anything wrong?" Ambulon asked, slightly concerned.

"Nothing's wrong. Just stuff to do with his old job," Sharpshift said. "Anyway." He quickly gathered to his feet, clearing his vocalizer. "Anything else?"

Ambulon eyed Sharpshift's face. He looked... annoyed. "No," he said a moment later. That friendly smile reappeared then. "Thanks for your time." Ambulon made his way to the door, leaving with more questions than he arrived with.

\---

"Yer too paranoid, doc."

Ambulon scoffed. "Easy for you to say."

"Yeah, it is," Zing insisted. He leaned back against the rock, folding arms over his chest. "Jus' cause the fault's bein' all faulty don't mean somethin's up."

"I disagree," Ambulon insisted. "But, let's just... Agree to disagree."

Zing blinked. "Agree to disawha?" He glowered. "You tryin' to pull some of yer fancy medic smarts on me?"

Zel knocked his comrade in the shoulder. "It means 'e dun wanna argue wif ya."

"'Cause he knows I'm right," Zing chirped, smiling widely.

Ambulon just ignored him.

"Can you two please stop bantering and focus on the _hole in my chest_!?"

Ambulon knelt before Kickspeed, the mech propped against a wall. There was a gash trickling fresh energon along his chest, his optics pale with horror. Ambulon quickly went about assessing the damage, scanner flicking online.

"Am I gonna live, doc?" Kickspeed whined. "Did I puncture my spark chamber?"

"Primus sakes, kid!" Zel cackled. "Yer a riot sometimes."

"That's nothin' compared to some of the slag we've been through," Zing added, pointing. "One time, a rock fell on my head an' took out one of my optics. I had to wander around on hands an' knees for a groon to look for it, bleedin' out all everywhere."

Kickspeed pursed his lips. "Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less."

"Pfft!"

"You tore open a small fuel line, but other than that, you've sustained no real serious injury," Ambulon reassured. He flipped open his medikit. "Just need to close the broken pump, weld your chest closed. Later, you can get it buffed and repainted. Good as new."

Kickspeed sighed. "You're the best, doc."

"You know, you _really_ don't belong down here. And I'm not trying to mock you," Ambulon insisted, cleaning out the wound. "Besides the fact you weren't built for this sort of work, you're also ill-equipped and inexperienced. If anything, you're a hazard."

"Haha!" Zing laughed. "He called you useless!"

Ambulon glared at the snickering miner. "No," he said, sternly, "I did not." Turned back to Kickspeed, who looked deflated. "You should be serving time in detention. Four cycles - I don't care if you robbed Decimus Prime himself, that sentence is way too harsh."

"Wot punishment would you give 'im, luv?" Zel asked, curious.

"At least a cycle. Maybe less. You have to consider his upbringing."

"Raised on the streets. No good frizz rat, lookin' out fer himself. Takin' whatever he can git his dirty servos on to survive. Poor kid."

Kickspeed squealed angrily, "I am _right here_!"

"Something needs to be done," Ambulon insisted, switching on the welder. "You can't stay down here."

"You don't think I haven't _tried_ getting out of this place?" Kickspeed whined. "I've done everything short of escaping. No, scratch that: I got half-way out of the habitation unit before Armorshield caught and escorted me himself back to my room." He growled angrily, rubbing at his arm. "You should have seen the dent he left. I thought he was gonna rip off my fraggin' arm."

"You're lucky he _didn't_."

Kickspeed sulked, looking like a kicked petro-rabbit. "I don't see why I can't go out with you guys," he said. "Y'know, you may think you got it rough, but at least you're able to leave the compound and stuff. At least you ain't confined to this place." He looked to the medic. "It's not fair, I tell you. It's not like I killed anyone!"

During his first week on the job, Ambulon had been concerned with the miners. His "inferior" colleagues were constantly at work. When they weren't, they were off in their private quarters or at their makeshift bar. He had yet to see a miner actually leave the compounds. The place started feeling more and more like a prison. At least Ambulon, his coworkers, and the officers could come and go when they pleased off-duty. They were paid, too, though it wasn't very much.

However, by the end of the first week, Ambulon woke to find more than half the population of S5-6 missing, including a handful of officers. It worried him a moment - what the Hell did he sleep through? - but he quickly went back to the files he'd been discharged from the hospital with.

Miners were not prisoners, despite how often it looked that way; the officers and their superiors treated the miners like second class citizens. They were paid, however. Ambulon winced at the figures; all their hard labor, risking their lives in the mines, and the miners earned very little, shockingly enough. Might as well have just been paid in dirt or nothing at all.

Most of the miners (save cases like Kickspeed) were granted permission to leave the compounds when they were off duty, just like any other employee on the base. However, they had very little free time to spend it on more than just relaxing for a bit and recharging. So, once a week, the miners were relieved of a day's worth of work to spend their time doing whatever they desired. As Ambulon found that day when the place turned into a ghost town, the miners had all gone off to the nearest city of Tarn.

Ambulon supposed it was fair enough. Though it didn't seem equal compared to the amount of work and time they put in the mines. At least they should be paid more. Ambulon wasn't quite sure how long this had been going, if the miners were satisfied with their shifts and poor income. If there had ever been any sort of uprising or revolt; S5-6's historical records lacked any mention of a strike. It would seem the miners were content and comfortable.

Though, Ambulon wondered, for how long?

"I can try appealing to Sharpshift myself," Ambulon mumbled a second later. Kickspeed widened his optics. "See if I can relocate you; if not, at least try cutting your sentence in half."

"Yea, an' I s'pose y'tried askin' 'im ta work on construction an' fixin' the roads down 'ere, too?"

Ambulon finished closing the wound. He stood, helping Kickspeed back to his feet. "No," he admitted, "but it's on my agenda."

"Have you even _tried_ speakin' to Sharpshift yet?" Zing snorted. "Stubborn as a Garrusian ox."

Ambulon's frown twitched. He debated telling them about his earlier talk with the security officer. Zing was right; he'd been both stubborn _and_ ignorant. "If Kickspeed dies down here," he replied, instead, "Sharpshift would be held responsible for negligence, right?"

"Nah," Zel disagreed, "it'd jus' be considered part-a the job. 'Occupational 'azard'. Those 'appen a lot down 'ere, y'see."

"Died in action, brave l'il guy. Head squashed like a melon; paint job all screwed up. Felt like my own sparktwin, he did. We'll miss 'im, that squeaky scraplet."

"You guys are doing that thing where you're talking about me as if I'm not here when I clearly am and can hear you," Kickspeed said.

"How many miners have died down here?" Ambulon asked, suddenly. "By accident or otherwise?"

Zel and Zing exchanged looks. Zing started counting on one hand - then the other - then the other hand again, before simply giving up and shrugging. "Off the top of me 'ead," Zel replied, "farty--maybe farty-nine?" He paused. "In the last cycle, that is."

Ambulon widened his optics. Miners had been working in S5-6 for nearly seventy-three years now. "Do you know how many... in total?"

"Oh, Primus, les not even go thar. S'not good ta dwell on the past an' all, yanno."

Zing looked up at his big companion. "Zel's been workin' here almost the entire time the mines' have been open, right, Zel?"

"Almost," Zel chuckled. "This'll be me sixty-two cycles' anniversary coomin' up." He grinned proudly. He patted Zing on the back. "It'll be yar sixteenth, ey?"

Zing preened. "Sixteenth an' goin' strong."

"You've been here for that long, huh?" Ambulon mumbled, turning to Zel.

"Yup," Zel replied, nodding. "The mines... They've changed a lot since I started workin' 'ere, yanno. Been through a whole lotta scrap. Nearly died twice. Lost me a lot of friends, yeah..." He trailed off, and Ambulon wilted, slightly. He regretted asking Zel about the causalities. Then, of course, the big mech was smiling and laughing again. "'Ad me a load of parties, too! Did a lotta stupid things; pulled a lotta stupid pranks. Got overcharged once an' fell asleep durin' a quake!" He smacked the side of his helm. "Dinnit evefin feel er 'ear a thing!"

Zing cackled. "I was there when that happened!" he shouted. "I tried wakin' the snorin' scumbucket, but he just kept on snoozin'!"

As the two old friends laughed and reminisced, Kickspeed pulled Ambulon off to the side. He no longer looked pitiful and pouting, but genuinely scared. "You will speak to Sharpshift about getting me out of here, right?" he whispered.

"I will," Ambulon reassured. "It may take me some time, but you have my word."

Kickspeed swallowed. "Good." His grip around Ambulon's forearm tightened. "Zel and Zing - they're okay guys. I get along with them fine. But the others..." His pale optics darted back and forth before stopping, wide, on the medic's face. "The others... They don't like me. They think I'm takin' their jobs, that I'm stealin' their credits." He sneered bitterly. "I tell 'em I don't get paid. I'm here because of a prison sentence. But do they believe me? A lot of them are... are very violent. And they don't..." His voice lowered almost into an inaudible whisper. "They don't enjoy their jobs nearly as much as those two chuckleheads over there do."

Ambulon blinked, both curious and a little nervous. "How do you mean?"

Kickspeed gave him a look, as if it were obvious. "They're worked like slaves down here and they get paid squat, that's why," he grumbled. "And it's not like I don't blame them for being angry... This place is..." He looked to the caves surrounding them. "This place is a nightmare. You can't trust no one. I don't even think I can trust Zing and Zel when it comes down to it. The officers - the officers won't do anything to help. Most of them treat you like trash. Like we're all a bunch of drones." He choked on his words, tugging on Ambulon's arm. "I ain't no drone, Ambulon. I'm not a miner. I don't like it here, and the miners don't like me here either. And I worry that one day when I'm recharging or my back's turned, they'll... they'll..." He finished by slashing a finger across his chest, making a guttural noise.

"They're not rabid animals, Kickspeed."

"Sharpshift, Armorshield - the supers - they _treat_ 'em like animals," Kickspeed hissed, lowly. "So what if they decide to play along? Act like rabid, wild animals? You don't know, you don't know, but I do. You know those forty-nine miners Zel mentioned? The ones that died last cycle?" The medic nodded. "Only thirty-two were accident related. At least ten of them were murdered; dunno about the remaining seven. There's a guy here - a gangster named RiffRaff - he's got a few friends inside an' outside this joint. Nearly bludgeoned in a guy's head for looking at him all wrong. But two meta-cycles later, while out on vacation in Tarn, a couple miners go missing. Turn up in spare parts two orns later." He leaned closer. "These two unfortunate glitches just so happened to get in a heated argument with Riff earlier that meta. Now go on and tell me that's all just a 'coincidence'."

"If RiffRaff were truly a threat, then Sharpshift would have sent him to prison," Ambulon insisted.

"Not if they don't know he's the one responsible for the killings. Not if they can't find evidence. But it's not like he killed all those ten miners. They were murdered, all right, but no one knows who killed 'em. An' Riff actually, supposedly, had strong alibis when four of the murders took place." Kickspeed ground his denta. "I think whoever killed those guys... they're still here. Still alive. Just waitin' for another chance to bash someone's cranial chamber in, knowin' they can get away with it. And there's a pecking order here, too, and I'm at the fraggin' _bottom_."

Ambulon opened his mouth to speak - closed it a second later. He thought a moment. "Have you told Sharpshift you feel your life is in danger?" he asked.

"Yes," Kickspeed replied, "but he thinks I'm paranoid. He thinks I'm just trying to convince him to lighten my sentence. I told him I'd be fine spending an eternity and a half on Garrus-1 instead of staying in this slaggin' place any longer!" He shuddered. "He told me I was in the wrong, that I was yelling at him. That he'd put it on my report and stop me from getting parole here in the next two cycles." The small mech wrung his hands together. "I pick-pocketed a rich, snobby-aft politician who could buy the entire fraggin' city of Iacon and wouldn't even miss a few credits and _this_ is what it got me? Where's the justice in that!?"

Ambulon shook his head. "I don't know. They didn't give you any explanation as to why you were sentenced to the mines?"

"None. Just said it was 'what I deserved'." Kickspeed chortled, bitterly. "But I think I know. Zing told me shortly after I started workin' here that my frame's perfect for slippin' into thin crevices. That I can move with ease through tight spaces." His fingers curled into fists. "So it ain't my crime that put me here, but my frame? The punishment don't fit the crime; I just fit their standards, and they judged me based on my design! They looked at me and saw a _tool_!"

"They still had to have known that would not make you a suitable miner."

"Like the Pit they cared. As long as I did their dirty work for them!"

Ambulon wasn't quite sure what to say. The politics between the miners and officers was blurred since the beginning. Zing and Zel boasted unity and trust between their people, but it seemed they were either lying or incredibly naive. It wasn't surprising, however, that the miners would suffer from occasional outbursts of violence. It made sense, psychologically, medically speaking.

The idea that any of them would actually _turn on_ and _kill_ one another, however, was just a bit too unsettling.

Quietly, Ambulon gently placed a hand on Kickspeed's shoulder. The younger mech blinked. "Just keep working. Stay on your best behavior," he reassured, but Kickspeed looked unconvinced. "I'll talk to Sharpshift. Armorshield, if I have to. We'll work something out."

\---

While the rest of the day went on relatively quiet and problem-free, Ambulon's mind was a flustered mess.

When he returned to the medbay, Extorque was at his console, typing in his latest report. Ambulon went to his desk and took a seat. He stared at the blank screen of his computer, hands folded together. He chanced a sly look over to Extorque beside him. The golden medic seemed engrossed with his work, optics alternating between screen and keys.

Ambulon turned back to his console. Slowly, he typed in a name. A second of hesitation, he struck 'enter', and RiffRaff's file popped open before him. A mug shot of the rather snide, unstable looking mech beside walls of text. Ambulon sat forward and started to read.

He skimmed through most of the details of RiffRaff's past and his crimes prior to his sentencing. Fissure had told him enough. His interest lied in any criminal or illegal activity during his stint in the mines. The list was, however, surprisingly short. Three separate incidents stood out where RiffRaff was charged, with five others listing him as a possible suspect or somehow indirectly involved.

There was indeed a fight with another miner that resulted in someone winding up in the hospital with half their head caved in. It had happened some weeks after RiffRaff joined S5-6. After that, for some years he remained relatively quiet; a few fights and scuffles, but not important enough to warrant severe punishments. His remaining two crimes where he was directly involved included a fight that sent another miner to the hospital, as well as the incident where he smuggled in a supply of Stims, now sitting locked in the medbay closet. The case remained open in terms of just how RiffRaff had managed to smuggle the drugs inside.

Kickspeed mentioned the death of two miners in Tarn, believing RiffRaff to be their killer after fighting with them. It was filed under 'possible suspect', however. In fact, he seemed to have been cleared of any charges. Ambulon cocked a brow; that seemed... odd. Though evidence appeared to be lacking, the odds were against RiffRaff. He had a motive, and no alibi; when asked where he had been during the miners' disappearances, the answer was a vague "wandering around". It was possible RiffRaff had snuck out to kill them, but reports indicated he had been released that weekend for "good behavior". He couldn't use house arrest as an excuse either.

Yet the case was closed. No other venues had been pursued. No other suspects had been brought in for questioning. Ambulon expected the TLE to at least be involved somehow, but there was no indication the local law stepped in to help. In the end, the case was abandoned, the deaths of the miners left unresolved. Sharpshift's signature closed the report for good.

Ambulon quickly accessed deceased patient files under last year. He easily found the seventeen deaths not attributed to work related accidents. Two included the miners from RiffRaff's case. Four each noted the former gangster as a suspect, but quickly removed due to air tight alibis. The rest were simply listed as NATURAL CAUSES. Ambulon went to open the autopsy report of one of the deceased's--

"What are you doing?"

Ambulon jumped in his seat, quickly turned to look up at Extorque. The golden medic was glowering solemnly at him. That Look had returned. Before Ambulon could answer, Extorque turned his gaze to the screen. His eyes widened with alarm at the open chart, but for only a brief second; he quickly closed the files, shutting down Ambulon's console. "Those are classified documents," he sniped.

"Why?" Ambulon asked.

Extorque glowered. "Why don't you go ask Sharpshift?"

"Sharpshift?" Ambulon repeated. "This should be open to all medical personnel."

"Well, it's not," Extorque inhaled, and Ambulon swore... It sounded as if he wanted to say something, but was holding back. "Again," he said, straining a little, "speak with Sharpshift if you're really that curious. I doubt it will get you anywhere, however." With that he stood, moving way too briskly out of the medbay.

Ambulon sat there in silence. It felt like whatever progress he had made with Extorque just shattered to pieces.

\---

The day was ending. Work was over.

Ambulon packed up and quietly headed back to the surface, squished between a group of large miners. He was used to it. Once above ground, he made his way to the dorms, tired, frustrated.

"Ambulon, right?"

Ambulon blinked and turned, a massive shadow swallowing him whole. He looked up into Scrooseloose's big, smiling face. Ambulon smiled tiredly back. "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"Nah," Scrooseloose replied. He tapped his shoulder. "Just wanted to say thanks again for patchin' me up."

"Just doing my job."

Scrooseloose laughed. "Ah, all you medics are too modest." His optics brightened. "Hey, I was wonderin'... Tomorrow we get in another shipment of high grade, an' I thought... Maybe if you're not doin' anything after work... Well." He rubbed the back of his helm. "Wanna go have a cube with me or somethin'?"

Ambulon tilted his head. "That's tomorrow, huh? Well..."

"I mean, if you don't wanna, you don't have to," Scrooseloose said, quickly, raising his hands. He tittered. "Just... I dunno. We only get this stuff once a deca. It's cheaper here than it is in the city. So you..." He rocked on one foot, then the other, looking at the ground. "Gotta take advantage, I guess... I mean, I've been savin' up my credits, so if you can't afford a drink, then--"

"No, it's no problem. I have enough," Ambulon smirked, raising a hand. The large miner was nervously twiddling his fingers together. "... Sure," Ambulon said a moment later, and got those big bright eyes again. "I'll have a cube with you. Say... Around this time?"

Scrooseloose beamed like starshine. "Yeah, yeah, perfect!" he cheered, and almost started swaying. "I'll, uh, I'll meet you here, then?" He pointed to the ground, and Ambulon chortled.

"Yeah. We'll meet here." Ambulon reached over and jabbed him in the arm. "By the way, how have you been holding up? The fault still giving you trouble?"

Scrooseloose shook his head. Ambulon swore he heard something rattle. "No," he said, "nothin's happened. No quakes. Nothing." He shrugged then snickered. "Guess it's takin' a break, huh?"

Ambulon stroked his chin. "I'm still not sure if that is a good thing or not..."

"Well, if anythin' happens, you'll be there to save me, right?" Scrooseloose grinned all his denta, sporting two large gaps on each row.

Ambulon wanted to tell Scrooseloose about his conversation with Sharpshift. How he wanted an officer stationed closer to the miner's sector to ensure he'd receive immediate help if anything happened. He wanted to, but he couldn't; not when Sharpshift outright refused. Ambulon suddenly got very annoyed; it seemed he couldn't talk about a lot of things with people today.

"If not me, then someone else," Ambulon reassured. "But... If something does happen... If something goes down... Leave your post, flag down an officer. Just in case. It may save your life."

Scrooseloose frowned. "But if I stop workin', my credits get docked."

"Your life's more important, I'd think," Ambulon snorted. "Just remember: if something happens you know isn't normal, evacuate the area. If anyone's with you, have them leave as well."

"But--"

"Doctor's orders," Ambulon hissed, and poked him in the arm again. The massive mech curled back like a small kitten. 

"But what if... what if one of the supers asks me what I'm doin'? What if he tells me to go back to work?"

"You tell him that I issued the order, and as your physician, you're required to follow through. Inferior officers are not allowed to impede on officially authorized medical orders." Except, well, this wasn't really official. Still, Scrooseloose looked nervous. "I'll take the blame if you get in trouble, all right?" Ambulon reassured, softly now.

Scrooseloose gave a tiny smile and nodded. "All right. But... um." He bowed his head, continuing to rub away the paint on the back. "Thanks fer... Well, fer worrying about me. AndIknow it's just your job, but..." His optics flushed. "Not many people... Well, everyone thinks I'm just all bulk and no brains, and that I'm creepy, but... 'M'not."

Ambulon smiled. He stood up on his tippy-toes, still not tall enough to reach the miner, even with him bowing. He gently pat the top of his head, Scrooseloose stiffening with surprise. "Some of these guys... They might say you're just drones, just some dumb machines, but... They're wrong," he said, standing back. And all he could think about now was the inequality between the officers and the miners. How Kickspeed said the world outside viewed them as nothing but animals.

"Shucks," Scrooseloose chortled, once more rocking on his feet, "that means a lot. I know it ain't very fair between the supers and us miners, but... Well, I mean, s'what we're meant for, right? We're just doin' what we're suppose to do."

"Why?" Ambulon asked. "Because of your alt mode?"

"Yeah," Scrooseloose said, blinking. "Am I wrong? We were built to dig up dirt and energon, so that's where we belong. In the dirt, underground. We're bein' treated just the way we're meant to be treated, ain't we? So it's not like it bothers me much. 'Cause that's just how it is."

Ambulon was speechless. "Who... told you this?"

"The supers that brought me from the factory to the mines," Scrooseloose answered. "They said this is where I'm meant to be. That Vector Sigma made me a miner, and that's that. If it was any different, I wouldn't have this frame, would I?" He shrugged again. "They said it was 'destiny', and you can't fight that. That you go by destiny, or you end up in a really bad place."

Ambulon suddenly felt slightly nauseous. "Let me ask you something, Scrooseloose," he said, and the miner nodded warmly. "Do... Do you _want_ to be a miner? Do you enjoy what you do? Are you _happy_?"

"I'm happy," Scrooseloose answered, "because I'm doin' what I'm meant to do. And the supers say, doin' what you're meant to do is good. I'm doin' good, so I'm happy."

Ambulon chewed his bottom lip. "There's never been a time where you've wanted to just... leave? To stop mining? To do something else with your life?"

Scrooseloose stared at him, as if a petro-rabbit had just popped out of his chest. He scratched his helm and grumbled. "Sometimes... I like to read?" And Ambulon's optics lit up slightly. "There's not much to read around here. I can't afford to buy many datalogs, either. So I don't read much... An' I'm not really good at it, I don't think, but... I like it. So I read whatever I can find." He pointed at the medic, suddenly excited. "Oh, oh! Matchflick - er, uh, you know him as M... M... Um... Sorry, I forgot, but... Well, he likes to read, too. An' sometimes he'll give me stuff he's finished reading or doesn't like. But not very often, as he thinks I'm sorta... dumb..." He trailed off, once again casting his hurt gaze to the ground.

"Ignore them," Ambulon scowled. "So... You like to read. Do you think you could see yourself doing something in the future that involves reading? How about an archivist? A librarian? A writer, even?"

"A librawha?" Scrooseloose muttered. He recoiled, shaking his head. "No, no... I couldn't do stuff like that. I'm meant for minin'. I'm not very good at readin', but I'm good at minin'. An' it's destiny, right? Me bein' a miner, now and always. So, why fight destiny?" He chuckled. "I don't like fighting, you see."

"You..."

Scrooseloose sighed. "Everyone thinks I'm invincible, that nothin' can stop me 'cause I work by the faultline an' I'm built all big an' strong. Sometimes, they try to start a fight with me, cause they believe what the others say an' that they can somehow take the dumb giant down. That if they defeat me, everyone will think they're cool and stuff." He mumbled something. "I don't like tellin' them to go away or back off. An' I don't like when they laugh at me an' call me a coward cause of it. An' I certainly hate that, sometimes, they just won't stop, and I gotta..."

Scrooseloose raised his head, the saddest look on his face. "I just don't like fightin'. An' destiny don't seem to have any weaknesses."

Ambulon's mind was a whirling mess of questions and confusion, and yet he could speak none of them. "Your outlook on life is a little negative, Scrooseloose," he said, finally, with very dry amusement.

Scrooseloose seemed confused, but smiled again. "Just doin' my job, right?"

Ambulon sized the miner up before reaching over and patting his arm. "Go... Wash up. Rest," he murmured. "Lots of work to be done."

"When isn't there?"

"True."

"We're still on for a drink, though, right?" Scrooseloose asked, back to his jovial self.

Ambulon nodded. "Of course."

Scrooseloose headed off with the rest of his herd, Ambulon watching him go. Once the compound was nearly empty, he turned and made way to his quarters, feeling strangely detached from the world around him. As he walked, he felt like he was floating; his mind, however, was a heavy weight keeping him chained to the ground. It was... a strange sensation. A very irritating one, at that. It was anger and bewilderment and sadness and confusion and... He grumbled and offlined his optics, rubbing down his face.

This would go away in the morning. It would have to. As it seemed with most everyone in this place, it had no choice but to.

\---

At least a good shower provided a little relief. Ambulon still found himself amazed at all the dirt, grime, and dust that went circling down the drains every time he bathed. Tension washed off him alongside the debris, and he found himself leaving the washracks slightly less gloomy, and three times more exhausted.

Ambulon settled into his quarters. Turned off the lights and laid out on his berth. Allowed himself a slow power down into recharge. The last thing to switch off were his audiols.

"--ap!"

Ambulon's optics whirred back to life. He'd heard just the clip end of the sudden shout, but enough to send him bolting upright. Audiols back online, he listened again, looking around him.

"Aaa _aaarggghscrap_!"

The medic jumped to his feet. An angry snarl, and it sounded like-- Ambulon turned wide optics to his thin wall. Immediately, he went bolting outside, quickly banging on his neighbor's door. No response. There was a shutter over the window on the door; if he remembered correctly, rules and regulations dictated windows remain clear and cover-free at all times. This couldn't be good; a second later, Ambulon heard fumbling and something loudly tipping over within.

Ambulon cursed. He looked down to the keypad on the door. Hesitated for a second, fingers twitching. With another curse, he punched in the emergency code. The door hissed and slipped open. Ambulon's dart forward fell into a stumble, then a halt, as he realized what he just walked in on.

Sitting by the window was an elderly looking mech with a terrible underbite, coolant dripping from one corner of his slanted, thick jaw. His pale orange optics stared at the medic, glowing, wet playing cards in his hands. His gaze followed Ambulon's up to the window, where the rear end and legs of a mech hung inside the room, the rest of his torso swinging outside.

Ambulon's optics shuttered. "What... What is...?"

The old, orange-eyed mech stared another moment before snorting. "Ain't no usch," he said, spittle flying from his mouth. He reached up a large hand and slapped at one of the dangling white legs. "Geh down from thhar."

Reluctantly, the mech in the window slowly drew back, standing on solid ground. He turned around, head bowed, and Ambulon was surprised to see the security officer insignia on his right breastplate. The officer looked up, blue optics full of shame.

"What is..." Ambulon muttered, mind still reeling.

"I can explain everything, sir," the officer replied, raising his hands.

The old mech guffawed, more globs of coolant and oil flying from his mouth. "Doooon' tachk down tah hem like hesch gotta gun!" He gestured Ambulon forward. "Shuh tha door, medhic."

Ambulon half-mechanically (so to speak) stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, then looked to the officer.

"He'sch schaposch ta be ahn dooty," the orange-eyed mech explained, jerking a thumb to the frightened officer. "Buh dohn be too mad at hem. It'sch my fffahult schoo."

He wasn't quite sure if he understood what the old mech was saying, given the fact his mouth was constantly full of pooling drool, but... "You're suppose to be on duty?" he asked the officer.

The officer winced. "Yes, well..."

"He alwaychs doesch thehs!" the orange-eyed mech snorted. "Ffffragghen loud afffft glehtchhead."

Ambulon's head started to hurt.

The officer sighed, and finally straightened up. "Sorry, sir," he apologized, again. "My designation is Tune Out. I belong to squad--"

"Cauhsch hesch tho loud! Hesch ffffault for behen caught! Ffffragghen glehtchhead trihd climbhen owtha window schtoopid gletchhead thach never worksch!"

"What is he saying? What's going on?"

Tune Out scowled. "Okay. Look. Um?"

"Ambulon."

"Ambulon-- By the way, nice to meet you, I don't think we've been formerly intro-- Anyway." Tune Out cycled a deep breath. "I'll just be honest with you." And the old mech was snickering, drool piddling in his lap. "I snuck off duty to play cards with Boulderdash here." He raised his hands again. "I've only been gone five kliks! Swear I was gonna be back in seven! Swear it!"

"Woulda behn scheven had yah not been scho fffffragghen loud!"

Ambulon pointed to the officer. "That cry... That was you?"

"You-- You heard me?"

The old mech roared with laughter. "Scheriouschly!?"

"Shut up! You're loud!"

" _Scheriouschly_!?"

"Okay, both of you? Calm down." Now Ambulon had his hands up. "I just want to make sure everyone is okay."

"We're fine," Tune Out explained. "Is that why you're here?"

"I thought someone was in trouble," Ambulon snorted, folding his arms. "I came to see what was wrong. The window was blocked - which, as you know, goes against the rules. You weren't answering the door. I heard more crashing noises from inside - presumably you knocking over that weird... looking..."

"It'sch a nothoron horn! I hunted it down meshelffff!"

"--In your attempt to climb out the window before you could be caught. So I used the emergency medical code to force open the door."

Tune Out wilted. "... Scrap."

Boulderdash was giggling sloppily again. "Schoooo loud! Schpoil schport losch an' had a fhet!"

"Well, yeah I'm--" Tune Out lowered his voice at the raise of Ambulon's finger. "--angry! You cheated me!" he whispered heatedly.

"I dehd naht."

"Yes. You did. You used those stupid whatever fake manipulation WHATEVER skills you have."

"Iffff they're scho fffake, than I dinnit usechum, now did Ieh?"

"Scrap. You're scrap."

"Are you guys arguing because you lost a card game?" Ambulon demanded.

"No!" Tune Out whined, stamped a foot. He then curled back, sulking. "Just I lost me twenty credits," he spat a second later, optics darting to the mech on the floor. "I want my credits back, Dash. You cheated, you rusty acid spewing droolbucket."

"Ain't never cheeted in my laifff," Boulderdash snorted, hand and cards pressed to his spark. "Schnot my ffffaulht you got schuch a scrap hahnd, glechthead."

"But you knew! You knew I wanted to fold, but you kept going," he flew back, and started spitting wildly in a terrible impersonation of his friend, "'noh noh I gotscha plhay I nheeda plhay no one plhaysch wif me anymoressch ppbbfffff!"

"Needsch more schpit."

"Knock it off, you two," Ambulon snapped, and the arguing mechs immediately went quiet. "This is ridiculous. Boulderdash? You should be recharging. Tune Out? You should be at your post. And me? I should be in stasis and not listening to a couple of glitchheads moan and groan over a game of cards!"

Boulderdash blinked. He leaned toward the officer, whispered moistly, "Scchhhsomeonesch's grumphy."

"What's wrong with you?" Ambulon demanded, pointing to his giant, slack jaw. "Have you not seen a medic for repairs yet?"

"Noh I chertainly do naht!" Boulderdash frothed, bristling. "Schbuilt thisch way! Ain't noshin wrong wifff eht!"

Tune Out looked at the medic sympathetically. "Seriously, we've tried getting that thing repaired, but he refuses. Every slaggin' time."

"Ain't schpark threatenin' ain'tah problem!"

"... So, yeah. He gets to keep his freaky, oversized mandible and drool on everything. My _cards_ included. Which is why we only play with his now." Tune Out hissed. "But I know he's done something to them. A trick, so he knows what cards I'm playing. He claims he uses this psychic vision that allows him to see through my cloaked EM field and into my innermost thoughts, so he can _swindle me out of my credits_."

Ambulon cocked an optic ridge. "And you... believe he can do this?"

Tune Out blinked. "No," he said, nose turned up. "Absolutely not. Why would I?"

Boulderdash kept giggling and giggling.

Tune Out's snooty glare melted into fear and pity. "You're not going to report me, are you, Ambulon?" he asked, voice pleading. "Look, I've never been caught before and -- Okay, that's not worded right, but I mean -- I listen to my commander, I do as I'm told, I'm never tardy or behind on work! Isn't it okay if I just once in a while maybe? Maybe? Get to... bend the rules a little? Maybe just ex... tend my energon break a couple more kliks?"

Ambulon stared one, two, three seconds and then sighed. "Just... Go," he growled, pointing to the door. "Go and... wait for me in the hall."

Tune Out wilted. He turned his sad puppy optics back to Boulderdash, where they flared with murderous rage. "I'm gonna get my ten credits back, you old bastard," he growled.

"Schee you tomorrow."

"No!"

Tune Out stomped out of the room. Ambulon stepped aside, watched him leave. He looked back to Boulderdash. Opened his mouth-- "I'm goin' I'm goin'," Boulderdash grumbled, swishing his cards at the medic. He grunted, joints creaking as he stood, hunched foward and hobbling over to his berth. Ambulon wanted to help him, but Tune Out made a small noise; Ambulon quickly yanked the board from off the back of the window, shut the door, and turned to the young officer.

"He doesn't like it when people try to help him. He says it makes him feel old."

"What?"

Tune Out snorted. "Boulderdash has been working in these mines the first orn they opened. He's M-05, you know. The original; not a replacement." Ambulon looked shocked. "Maybe that's why your quarters are next to his? To make sure he doesn't suddenly keel over or something during recharge. You can get to him fast."

"You two are... friends?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that," Tune Out replied. "He doesn't get much respect from the other officers, and the miners all think he needs to be put out of commission, but... I dunno. I think he's hilarious. You know he was all ready old when he started working here. He's a fraggin' antique, I tell you... But don't tell him I told you."

Ambulon blinked. "It's... nice. That you're his friend. When everyone else apparently wants him gone."

"Armorshield thinks he's a liability and wants to get rid of him," Tune Out retorted, the two peering into the old mech's room. He had rolled onto his side, carefully, spilling more fluids from his huge bottom jaw. "Sharpshift, however, says he needs all the workers he can get. Even ole Dash here. But, to be honest, I don't think Dash cares either way. He doesn't care for much besides his card games."

"It must be hard sometimes, though."

"He's gotten over those hard times. He's in his 'I don't give a frag' times, now. That's what he calls them. But with more coolant flying in your face." Tune Out frowned. "He reminds me of one of my instructors back at the academy in Vos. But Dash is ten times more experienced on the field - he's been through a lot of scrap. Not only in the mines, but with other miners. Officers, too." He sighed. "He says officers don't respect miners anymore. That back during the 'era of gold', miners were honored and praised. Because they were the ones who built Cybertron."

Ambulon watched Boulderdash attempt to get comfortable on the slab, mumbling something inaudible.

"Off their backs, the cities of our planet grew. They were gods, and kings, he said. Their hands forged Cybertron. With the combined determination of the Primes and the hammer of Solus, the miners arose to bless us ungrateful folk who sit above them with all these wonderful treasures that rightfully belong to the miners. ... So he says."

"Now," Ambulon mumbled, "they're work mules and expendable tools."

Tune Out looked to the medic. "You... don't think they're slaves, do you?" he asked. "I mean, they get paid and have vacations. It's not like we whip them or... Well, you know."

"I don't think they're slaves," Ambulon said. He met the officer's gaze. "Not yet. I think it's just... I don't know, really."

Tune Out tilted his head. "Where does that leave you, Ambulon? You're not exactly high class yourself. A miner medic. You're built to work the mines, but not like these guys. And, well, what about me? I mean, I was forged and spent most of my life in Vos, but I chose to work here. Not as the miners' master, but as their friend. You know, to help them." He slouched. "I mean, it's not like we're _all_ these cruel, sparkless, greedy egomaniacs Dash and some of the other miners make us out to be. Some of us... care, you know. I just think it's kind of unfair to lump us all in the same category."

"It's hard for them not to, though."

"... I guess I can't blame them. The cityfolk don't care much for the miners. Most Tarnian residents put up with them because they spend all their credits in the city when they're off from work." Tune Out shrugged. "Builds their economy, I guess. But they're not _all_ aftheads." He laughed. "I don't visit Boulderdash because I pity him, if that's what you've been thinking."

Ambulon's brows climbed. He had been, actually. "Oh?"

"Like I said, I think he's funny. He's got a lot of stories to tell. He's a dirty slaggin' cheater, buuuut... Gotta take the good with the bad. And believe you me, there's a lot of good and a lot of bad on _both_ sides of the field, know what I'm saying?"

The medic snorted. "I know what you're saying."

"He's always telling me I'm a spoiled Vosian youngling. That because Vos is rich in energy, it doesn't rely nearly as much on the mines as the other city-states. That Vos doesn't 'work for its power'. I tell him he's a senile, arrogant Tarnian and probably needs to be put out of his misery." Tune Out rolled his optics. "But then he's asking me to come play cards with him again every time I leave. And I come back every single time, with more credits to waste, knowing he's probably going to swindle me. He tells me he'll risk taking the heat if I'm caught with him. He's willing to get his rusty aft in trouble for a pampered Vosian sparkling. I'm willing to lose my job and high marks to play fraggin' card games with an ornery old miner. So, basically, yes... We're friends."

Ambulon... smiled. "Sounds like there's never a dull moment, then."

"Hardly."

A second later, a door clicked, and a small head peeked out from a room down the hall. "Is there a party going on?" he asked in a low whisper.

At the exact same time, another door opened, a pair of heads poking out.

Head #1 asked, "Is there--"

"--any high grade?" Head #2 finished.

"I'll bring some if there isn't," a voice seemingly coming out of thin air chimed in, and Tune Out was vaguely aware that sounded like another officer over the intercom.

"Back to bed!" Tune Out and Ambulon snapped in unison, the former giving an authoritative finger pointing. The miners all sulked but reluctantly sunk back into their rooms, doors clicking and locking closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boulderdash's name is a play off the word "balderdash". He basically has the face of a pug with a bad underbite. Also, eee! The wonderful engagedfirstaid on Tumblr drew [Scrooseloose](http://engagedfirstaid.tumblr.com/post/34988639139/scroooooooseloooooose-who-likes-reading)! Look at how motherfuckin' adorable he is, godDAMN.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is a sinner or a saint.

When Kickspeed received the sentence, his spark stopped cold in its chamber.

Four years of hard labor in the mines.

_The mines._

It might as well have just been a death sentence.

The first few days had gone just as Kickspeed expected. Work started too early, and ended much too late. He didn't get nearly as much sleep. They supplied him with sufficient amounts of energon, sure, but it all tasted like crap. He shared a room with a miner about his size, lacking any real personality and constantly smelling of rust, despite how often he bathed. He wasn't any good at his job. The other miners were quite happy to point this out whenever they could. They didn't like him, but that was okay; Kickspeed didn't care too much for them, either.

Though a sliver of starshine had managed to break through one of the cracks.

Kickspeed had been transferred to a new location in sector five. Instead of mocking him for his inability to properly use a drill, two of the regulars, Zing and Zel, were kind enough to show him how. Sure, Zing was a smart ass and had a few goes at the poor kid's expense, but he generally meant well. Zel frightened Kickspeed at first, until he opened his mouth, and nothing but a silly accent and warm, happy reassurance came out.

Kickspeed learned how to handle the drill a bit better, but not by much. He had improved somewhat in his work, but now only passing for average. Most of the miners still hated or ignored him; some eventually backed off. His roommate still smelled. However, at least, Kickspeed now had friends. Though initially it hadn't been his intention to make friends. It wasn't as if he were antisocial or didn't want the company - just the people he worked with didn't really come off as very friendly.

Kickspeed figured Zing and Zel would have left him alone after they showed him the ropes. They talked to each other mostly, and it was obvious the two were very close and the best of friends. However, soon they managed to worm Kickspeed into their conversations. He'd been reluctant and rather short with his answers, offering very little to their discussions, but the hesitation didn't last for very long.

Kickspeed was starting to feel the gloom of loneliness, and having a couple guys to talk to and empathize with sounded great with each passing day.

Soon, the three were rarely seen apart. Always in their tight knit little trio. Kickspeed knew he would never be as close to Zel or Zing as the two were with each other. That was fine. In fact, Kickspeed was just happy they even talked and hung out with him at all. Especially Zel. The mech was huge, and a lot of the miners were intimidated by him, despite his sunny disposition. Zing - while not nearly as strong or scary, was a pretty good fighter and appeared to have "connections" with those higher-up on the chain.

With Zel and Zing at his side, Kickspeed knew he'd be protected. No one wanted to invoke the wrath of the 'Double Z Duo', he knew. No longer did the miners who once taunted and tormented him say a word. They simply ceased to bother him, or always kept their opinions and gossip to themselves. Kickspeed knew it was because of his new friends, usually always shadowing him. He was indirectly invincible.

So long as Zel and Zing were there.

"You're being reassigned."

Kickspeed's optics nearly popped out from his cranial chamber. "W-What?"

The officer glowered. "Due to the recent amount of injuries you've sustained at your post in S5.25," he explained, holding up a 'pad for the young miner to read, "you've been relocated to work at S5.15."

"B-But," Kickspeed stammered, his spark thrumming, "no matter where I go, I'm--I'm gonna get injured. P-Part of the job, right?"

"Your reassignment to S5.25 was to be temporary. Until we had an opening elsewhere. Unfortunately for you, we found your more suitable replacement," the officer said. "You'll now be reporting to S5.15 for duty instead. Same work schedule applies."

Kickspeed's plating rattled. "You--You can't move me!" he insisted, voice desperate and fearful. "I belong in S5.25! I'm fine here - really, I'm fine!" He placed a hand over his spark - where a medically welded patch still needed buffing and painting.

The officer frowned. "I don't make the orders, kid," he said, firmly. He jammed the 'pad in Kickspeed's hands. "And just like me, you gotta follow them." He pointed down a narrow tunnel. "You've been here long enough. You should be able to find your way to S5.15. Report to squad commander Flashfire when you arrive, though he may be running a little late today."

Kickspeed's jaw hung open. Closed. He looked at the datapad in his shaky hands, back to the officer. Reassignment meant being taken away from Zing and Zel. Without Zing and Zel, he'd--

"I-- Can't I talk to Sharpshift?"

The officer growled. "He said you might be trouble. Apparently, you're well known for your complaining." His words stung but Kickspeed bit his tongue. Didn't want to tell the mech where he could shove it. "As such, he said no arguments. If you won't go to S5.15 yourself, then you will be _escorted_."

Kickspeed winced. "... No. No, I..." He could taste something bitter as he swallowed. "... I'll go."

"No stalling. You've got tools waiting for you there. So, get going."

There was no time for Kickspeed to say goodbye to his friends, working obliviously away behind him. He could always see them outside work, he knew. Yet that wasn't in the least bit reassuring.

Kickspeed bowed his head and sighed.

\---

"Shipment coming in tonight."

"Yahoo."

Draftwind smirked. "You don't sound too excited."

Trisil sighed and protracted his wrist gun. "By the time I get to the bar, there's never anything left."

"You have to be there early."

"That's easy for you to say," Trisil growled. He shoved a power pack into the stunner, flipped it back into place. "You're part of the Elite Club. You get your own private shipment." Plating clicked as his arm closed.

Draftwind snickered. "I've been working here for fifty cycles," he said. "Once you've hit fifty, you're welcome to join us."

"Or you could save me a cube?"

"Not on your spark," the older officer spat. "I told you before: we're not allowed to share anything that belongs to the club with non-members. Our stash included."

Trisil snorted. "Not even one cube?"

"Nope. Otherwise I'm banned for a deca-cycle," Draftwind replied. "Besides, like _Pit_ anyone in the club would share high grade. That's like throwing away credits."

"More like charity."

Draftwind laughed. "Just work hard the next thirty cycles, and you're in. You know, we got people who've been workin' in these mines well over fifty cycles who aren't members. Simply because they're slackers or just pains in the aft." He reached over and poked his coworker in the arm. "You gotta work for your place in the Elite. It also helps that you've got a friend on the inside."

Trisil smirked. "About the _only_ good thing about having you as a friend."

"Fah!"

"At least you're up here sitting comfortable at your desk most of the slaggin' time," Trisil scowled. "Meanwhile, I'm down there, constantly worried the roof's gonna cave in or if one of the miner's is in a bad mood. Which is often."

Draftwind sneered. "My work isn't always easy, y'know," he insisted. He tossed a datapad at his comrade, who clumsily caught it. "Take a look at this ugly glitch."

Trisil stared at the photo of a glaring miner, two scars across his mouth. "Snubber?"

"You know the mech?"

"No."

Draftwind laughed, dryly. "He's a real piece of work," he grumbled, folding his arms and sitting back. "One deca-cycle ago, he got into a fight with his roommates. Yanked off one's arm, broke the second's legs. Had to call in Fissure, who was none too happy having to do repairs so late. Spent a meta-cycle under house arrest. Four orns ago, he started an argument with one of his group members. Things get heated. Officers step in. Snubber starts screaming how he's gonna crush his coworker's spark if he stays in the group any longer. So, we've had to reassign him elsewhere." The officer narrowed his optics. "Third transfer." He pointed to the datapad in Trisil's hand. "And you know who's got to handle his case? Who's got to put up with him? Who's got to be there whenever he slips up or acts out? Who's been told if they try 'smart talking down to Snubber again they're going to get their tongue ripped out'?" He hissed. " _Yeah_."

Trisil frowned. "Tell Sharpshift he needs to be relocated to another facility."

"You know as well as I that Sharpshift is greedy. He's got a good enough staff down there, but he still thinks we don't supply enough workers. The only way you're going to get Sharpshift to agree to Snubber's deportation is if he kills someone."

Trisil asked, "What about Armorshield? If he says starshine here's gotta go, he's gotta go, right?"

Draftwind groaned. "Talking to Armorshield, though..."

"What? You haven't?" Trisil snapped. "Oh, come on! Obviously we need Snubber out of here. And if Armorshield can transfer him, then what are you waiting for? The guy's a stiff gearstick, yeah, but he's got all our interests in mine. He wants this place to run smoothly. And if he knows someone's causing even just a ripple in his pretty little pool, he'll flip his transistors." He bristled. "Sharpshift's reminded us on multiple occasions that we keep to ourselves, and don't go telling 'Shield anything. You, on the other hand, you _can_."

Draftwind growled. "It's not that easy. We can't have Armorshield deporting every miner with a bad temper or for occasionally acting out. If we did, we'd pretty much be left with nothing. He's a very busy--"

Trisil sighed and raised a hand. "You know what? Let's just... agree not to tell each other how to do our jobs, okay?"

"Happily." Draftwind waved a hand at him, grumbled, "But don't tell no one I shared this information with you, okay? I swear, if you do, I lose my job. And then I'm going to go Pit crazy on your diode."

Trisil smirked. "No worries," he reassured. "So, I won't be seeing you at Better Then Nothin tonight?"

"Nope," Draftwind said, smiling. "Gonna get overcharged with my own private supply~"

"You share it with like twenty others. I doubt there's enough for you to get sloshed out your processors."

"You'd be surprised!"

"What do you mean?" Trisil demanded. "Draft, just _how much_ high grade does your special club get?"

Draftwind winked and placed a finger to his lips. "Shh. Can't discuss club business with outsiders."

Trisil barked a laugh. "Can't believe it. Does Armorshield know?"

"Armorshield probably gets more than all of us fraggin' combined. I know Sharpshift gets first pickin's when the shipment arrives, right after 'Shield," Draftwind answered, shrugging. "Everyone else has to wait in line. Oh." His purple optics glimmered. "Except for the Elite, of course."

Trisil shoved him away. "I don't know why I even talk to your egotistical aft."

"Aww, I have fun with you, too."

The blue-black security officer headed for the door. "Anyway, I'm out," he said. "See you later."

Draftwind wiggled his fingers at him. "As always, have fun~"

\---

Miner's Rust.

An accumulation of bacterium in the mines in open wounds, it causes the decay of circuitry and a rust-like corrosion of the surrounding plating. If left unchecked for too long, it may spread. With proper medical treatment, Miner's Rust can be cured, with a repair time frame usually between one to two weeks. However, if the infection is too deep or has spread, the diseased site will need to be amputated. Most cases of Miner's Rust have a high recovery rate, with only ten reports of amputation, and six fatalities in the entire history of S5-6.

Of the two things Kickspeed feared the most, it was disease and a slow death.

Naturally, he could only think of dying as the end result should he contract Miner's Rust. It was a very common disease in the mines, of course. The incubation period took nearly four days, but in Kickspeed's mind, it might as well have been instantaneous. One second, he'd cut himself on a rock, and then the next, his hand would be falling off in a rotting, rusty mess.

Kickspeed stared at the wall he'd been drilling. In his mind's eye, he could see millions of threads of the dreaded bacterium crawling everywhere. Waiting. Laughing. Just one slip up, one tiny slip up. He recoiled a moment, shaking his head. Kickspeed looked up a second later, to see if any of his new colleagues had seen his little freak out. Of the ten strangers, no one seemed to have noticed him, still hard at work.

Kickspeed sighed. Good, good. He raised his head again, glared at the wall. Not good, though, not good, standing here, shaking, afraid of getting a little scratch. What was he? When did he lose his backstrut? He had been a thief back on the streets. He was used to the rush, the risk. Sure, it wasn't exactly the same, but... He had been a brave mech once. (... And a foolish one, he now thought.)

 _Keep it together_ , Kickspeed growled to himself. He hefted the drill back against the rocks, glaring determinedly. _Keep it together keep it together you can do this you can do this you just got to be careful try not to get nicked by the flying debris or--_

"Maybe where you come from, slacking off is a-okay. But not down here."

Kickspeed felt his spark quiver. He turned, looking into the optics of a very annoyed miner. At the sight of his face, the miner smiled, a wicked and devious little thing. Kickspeed's spark shook a little harder, the drill whirring offline.

"Ah, yeah. You're the new recruit, aren't you?" the miner asked. He scratched at his scarred lips. "Never seen you around here before." He sized the mech up. "Not a miner, either."

Kickspeed blinked. "I'm... Well, I'm not really..." he mumbled. "I mean, I wasn't _built_ for mining, but I've been here a while and I, uh, I'm no stranger to how things go, so..."

"So, why is it you're here?" the miner asked. "You look like a city mech. Local, with your Tarnian accent."

"Yeah, I'm from the city - city of Tarn. Um." Kickspeed scratched the side of his helm. "Er, well, it's sorta a long story. Why I'm down here an' all. So, um..."

The miner chuckled. "Truth is, I don't really care. So you don't have to tell me," he explained. Kickspeed was grateful, he supposed. "But, you know... I've seen others like you down here. Sticking out like sore servos."

"Y-Yeah..."

"In fact," the mech hummed, scratching at his mouth again, "I've seen a little _too_ many of you lately."

Kickspeed twitched. "O-Oh..."

The mech narrowed an optic. "Yeah. Doing miner's work, when you can't do it for scrap. Taking up valuable time and space."

 _Frag_ , Kickspeed cursed, internally. "I'm... I'm sorry you think that."

The miner patted the rocks. "For someone who's been working in the mines for a while, you act like you've never been down here before," he noted. "And you're shaking like a naked protoform."

Kickspeed gulped. "Er, well... Just a little concerned. I mean." He tapped a hand to the patch on his chest. "Fresh repairs. Worried I might get Miner's Rust."

"Miner's Rust?" the mech laughed. "Kid, you got much _bigger_ problems to worry about down here besides Miner's Rust."

"Well, yeah. Um... Cave-ins and... Well, I know, but."

"I'm taking your story has something to do with the law," the miner continued. "Because no city mech like yourself would dare get their pretty, pristine hands dirty down here." He rose a brow. "Must have fitted you with some mods to keep you from falling apart in these conditions."

Kickspeed glanced at the drill. "They--they did. Ventilation system upgrades, um--"

"So thin, too," the miner interjected. He reached over, sliding a dirty hand down Kickspeed's arm. The young mech winced. "Probably got one of those cybercycle alt modes. I can see how it helps you getting in and out of small places. Got long enough arms to reach into tiny crevices. But everything else?" He flicked a bit of debris off Kickspeed's shoulder. "No, no. You certainly don't belong here."

"I--I know I don't," Kickspeed agreed, shifting his arm away. "I want to leave, I really do, but... Like you said... Um, law... Trouble and... all..."

"I do find it a bit offensive that _your people_ would put you down here," the miner said. "I hope you don't mind me saying this," he softened his voice, "but mechs like you... are very weak."

Kickspeed grimaced. "I--"

"Doing nothing but sitting on your servos, letting everyone else do your work for you. You and your mundane lives up top. You needn't worry about anything. You don't have to. Not when life's being served to you on a crystalline platter."

Kickspeed's spark twisted, but not with fear. "That's... that's not true," he insisted. "We work, too. We... We contribute to society. We help in our own ways and... and--"

" _And_ take credit for _our_ work," the mech interrupted, voice growing hotter. "If I had it my way, _you_ would be working for _us_. We'd be the ones running the place. We built it. And you'd be the ones taking care of us. Respecting us." He closed an inch of space between them, and Kickspeed stumbled back a little. " _Worshiping_ us. Cause we're gods, kid. We're gods, and you're just _parasites_."

Kickspeed started the drill, its whining filling his audiols. "I have to get back to work now!" he shouted over its harsh cry, repressing an urge to throw in a few obscenities.

Suddenly, the miner's large hand was on the drill. Before Kickspeed could say anything, the mech wrenched the tool easily from his fingers. Wide optics watched as the miner switched the drill off and tossed it aside.

"How very like you _bugs_ ," he sneered, "turning your back and switching your audiols off to us."

"I'm not lookin' for a fight," Kickspeed said, raising his hands.

"Too bad."

Kickspeed grunted as he was suddenly shoved against the rock wall, the back of his head banging against the hard surface. He grabbed at the arm against his throat, pressing down on vital fuel and energon pumps. His optics darted back and forth, looking for help, but... The other miners were still at work. Keeping to themselves, though Kickspeed knew damn well they knew what was going on.

Afraid. All of them.

The miner grinned. "Go on," he cooed, "cry for help." His arm pushed down harder, and Kickspeed choked. "Oh, right. Seems you can't."

Kickspeed tore into the limb. "P-Please," he rasped, grinding his denta. "L-Let... g-guh..."

"I'm so _tired_ of seeing your kind down here. So very tired of it." The miner shivered angrily. "You think you're better than us, and then you think you have the same strength to do what we do? You think we can be so easily replaced with the likes of _you_?" His red optics flared. "Your people are arrogant fools. You insult my integrity, and the integrity of every _real_ miner down here." He held out his free hand, and Kickspeed froze instantly at the switchblade popping out from his wrist. "Just some bug trying to play _Primus_."

"What the _Pit_ is going on down there!?"

The miner and Kickspeed looked up. A security officer stood along the ridge above them, optics wide and frowning disapprovingly.

"Nothing to worry about, officer," the miner purred.

"H-Help--!"

"I've seen you before," the officer hissed. "Snubber - put the kid down."

"Sorry, but you don't seem to be the leader of S5.15's squad," Snubber replied. "Why don't you go get him, and maybe we'll talk?"

"Flashfire's on his way," the officer spat. "In the meantime, you deal with me." He pointed to the badge printed on his breastplate. "As your superior, I order you to put him down."

Snubber's red optics narrowed. "'Superior'?" he grumbled.

Taking that moment of angry distraction, Kickspeed managed to pry the arm off his throat. Just enough to slip away. Snubber growled as Kickspeed quickly made a run for it. He chased, switchblade still in hand. They only got a few feet before the officer stood between them, shielding Kickspeed.

"Put your weapon down," the officer ordered, "and your hands on your head."

Snubber's lips pulled back into a bitter sneer. "... Your accent. Iacon?"

"I order you to put your weapon down."

"Oh, your people are the _worst_. Right above those ingrates at Vos," Snubber hissed, clutching the hilt of his blade tight enough to shake. "Iaconians. Think you're the stars in the sky. Think you're Primus's gift to Cybertron. You're _scum_. You and all the surface dwellers."

The officer raised his hand, stun gun flipping into place. "I will warn you one last time," he said, firmly, "put your weapon down, and place your hands on your head."

Snubber's optics fell to Kickspeed, sitting on the ground behind the officer, shaking, scared. Hiding. The other miners were watching, confused and anxious. Snubber ground his denta, his hand slowly lowering. One step back, and the officer's optics followed closely.

Dirt flew into the air, and someone gasped.

"You _both_ deserve to die!"

Kickspeed screamed and switched off his optics.

\---

Ambulon sighed.

Yellow optics flickered as they powered up, adjusting to the lighting of the room. Ambulon sat on his berth, waiting for the rest of his system to reboot. He stared tiredly at his door, watching miners sidle on by the window.

A click, and his chronometer set off a small internal alarm. Ambulon switched it off before it could finish its first beep. The fatigue usually wore off after a hot cup of energon and ten minutes of fussing and grumbling and complaining to himself.

The medic stood from his berth and crossed the room. Gathered up a few tools. Lifting his head, he saw his vague, semi-transparent reflection in his window's glass. He felt like Hell, but at least he didn't look it. Just... tired. Then again, so was everyone else.

Ambulon followed miners out of the habitation building like cattle to the elevators.

"Are you all right?"

Ambulon's optics flickered with surprise. Was that...? He looked back, and his suspicions were confirmed. Extorque was standing a few feet behind him, his EM field radiating slight concern. The fact he even _asked_ if his coworker was feeling okay was a major improvement.

"I'm fine," Ambulon mumbled. Too tired to realize he sounded hardly friendly.

Extorque nodded. "I hear there was some commotion on your floor last night."

"Just a little. Nothing bad." The medic cocked a curious ridge. "What'd you hear, exactly?"

"Not much. Just that there was some sort of scuffle near your quarters. No one claims to know who was fighting, and why." Extorque squinted. "Armorshield was going to come in and interrogate the lot of you personally, if Sharpshift hadn't talked him down."

Ambulon widened his optics. "Why would Armorshield get involved over something so insignificant?"

"Because Armorshield is strict. _Really_ strict. To him, what may have been a minor, silly little rumble could very well lead to the possibility of an all out brawl involving everyone on your floor."

"That's ridiculous," Ambulon snorted. "He can't seriously think that...?"

"Yes. There's been quite a handful of fights here at S5-6, but none of them ever got really out of hand," Extorque continued. "You know why? Because Armorshield quickly stepped in, and stopped things from getting out of control. He finds little spats can lead to grudges, and grudges can lead to violence. He has zero tolerance for such behavior."

Ambulon frowned. "Keeps the place in order, I suppose. But... You've never had any riots? I mean, like you said, most of the place's history is pretty crime free. Just a couple arguments and fisticuffs exchanged before Armorshield squashed them swiftly. But..." He tilted his head to get a better look at Extorque's bowed face. "There's never been a serious threat? Not even once?"

Extorque gave his coworker a side glance. "No," he said, bluntly. "Like I said, Armorshield and Sharpshift keep that from happening. As do all the security officers." He raised his head, sniffing. "We may have criminals and gangsters like RiffRaff and Kickspeed in our ranks, but they're helpless in our servos. They know if they try anything stupid or dangerous they're going to wind up spending hard time at Garrus-1. This place is Iacon compared to the pit that is Garrus-1."

"You've been to Garrus-1?"

"No." A beat. "I just know someone who has."

Ambulon found the medic was still rather shifty and guarded around him. That was fine, he supposed. He didn't want to pry if he didn't have or need to. "Speaking of criminals," Ambulon mumbled a second later, the two loading into an elevator with ten others. "I'd like to talk to you about Kickspeed."

"You want to reassign him, right?" Extorque chuckled as he was shoved against another miner. "Not gonna happen. Sharpshift won't let it."

"Why not?"

"You know how stubborn and desperate he is. I know you spoke to him about some matters the other day. You left looking like you'd been slapped in the faceplates."

Ambulon scowled, yanking his arm free from being crushed. "He's got an irresponsible streak that I don't like. Armorshield doesn't know about it, does he?"

"No. To be honest, Sharpshift sort of keeps Armorshield in the dark in regards to what happens underground. Just reports most of the usual, mundane stuff, or things he knows he cannot keep from reaching the surface eventually. To him, the mines are _his_ turf. His law. Armorshield reigns up-top, and pushes all the data and keeps things in order with the superiors. Sharpshift takes care of business below."

"Well, he's not doing a very good job," a gruff voice said from somewhere nearby.

The two medics couldn't help but smirk. When Extorque noticed Ambulon looking at his small smile, he quickly slipped on his usual frown. Ambulon really didn't understand why he was embarrassed, but whatever.

When the elevator reached the bottom, its cargo unloaded. Extorque and Ambulon walked side by side, separated by a comfortable distance. "To be quite honest with you," Extorque said, lowering his voice, "Sharpshift hates Armorshield. Like, _loathes_ him. Armorshield's income is 20% higher than Sharpshift's, and..." He inched just one bit closer. "I know you... well enough... that you won't repeat this to anyone, but... Sharpshift was actually a bit of a hooligan in his younger cycles as well."

Ambulon blinked. "Really?"

"He ran around with a small gang in Iacon," Extorque continued. "I don't know what they did, but apparently it wasn't much. Mostly harmless pranks and being obnoxious glitches to the older crowds. But either way, rumor has it he started getting into gambling at a young age, and it just got worse. Got into a terrible debt; he tried robbing a supply store in Kaon, but was apprehended. But I suppose the court made him an offer - spend thirty-two cycles in a cell, or ten cycles of training in security and law enforcement."

"Sounds... interesting."

"Sharpshift was qualified for the part, or so they say. Sort of like the miners are built for mining. Sharpshift, I guess, was meant for security. Obviously, he took the deal, got high marks, graduated, and was assigned here." Extorque shook his head. "I think he had his hopes set for Armorshield's position, but... In all honesty, as you said, he's a bit irresponsible. And immature. High command must have recognized these flaws and thought he'd be better suited working with the miners."

"You'd think with a back story like that," Ambulon suggested, "he'd give Kickspeed a break."

"If anything, he's probably being hard on him in an attempt to steer him off the path of crime completely. Before Kickspeed winds up like Sharpshift did." The golden medic snorted. "But you and I both know he doesn't care, really. Not about Kickspeed's rep or case. Just needs the workers."

"We can find someone to replace Kickspeed."

"We get miners when they're available. We don't just ask for and receive them the next day."

Ambulon sighed. "Right." Like they had to wait for a new field medic after Tightclinch passed away. He looked forward, the medbay in sight. "I hope Fissure's back from his stint in Tarn."

Extorque looked to him. "You know about that?"

"I asked Sharpshift why he was gone." _Figured asking you would get me nothing or something vague. Well, I got the latter._ "He didn't go into detail."

Extorque frowned. "Yeah," he said, optics shifting back to the dirt. "It's none of our business anyway."

"Wish someone told me a head of time, however. It'd be nice if I knew about what happens in our medbay." He internally winced. "No offense."

"None taken," Extorque reassured blandly. "It just slipped my CPU, I suppose."

"So, he still does business in Tarn, then? Private practice? Clinic?"

"I suppose."

"You don't know?"

"I don't ask," Extorque pressed, slightly, "because it's none of my business."

Ambulon felt a small chill from the golden medic. Right. Best to change the subject.

"If Fissure wanted us to know, he'd tell us."

"Right."

"... Still works as a doctor, or at least consultant. I know this much. But I guess it's just something he prefers not to bring up at his second job. Well, this being his first, but you know what I am saying."

"Gotcha."

"... I gave you that look again, didn't I?"

"What?"

Extorque sneered. "Come on. You're not the first to coin that certain expression of mine. Lots of people say I give them this certain glare, this awful frown, when I'm annoyed or upset. Their reactions to this look are usually the same, so I know when I'm making it." One corner of his grin tugged up a centimeter. "Your reaction... was different. In the beginning. I couldn't tell."

"Well," Ambulon smirked, "it doesn't matter now. I got the message the first time you used it on me."

Extorque's right optic ridge twitched. "The message being...?"

"Is..." Ambulon scratched at his helm. "Is that a trick question...?"

"Looks like we got here just in time."

Ambulon and Extorque stopped, looked up. Their optics widened. Arriving at exactly the same time as the medics, an officer was helping Trisil limp to the medbay. The mech had a hand pressed over his abdomen, barely concealing a fresh wound. Rivets of energon ran down his thigh and leg, but otherwise, it looked to have stopped bleeding. Kickspeed stood to Trisil's left, the color drained from his optics, face unreadable. Two more officers were dragging an unconscious and stunned miner off to Sharpshift's office, his hands bound by stasis cuffs behind his back.

"Get him inside," Extorque ordered, and the two doctors rushed into the medbay, quickly prepping the equipment.

The officer supporting Trisil helped him onto the nearest berth. Trisil winced as he shifted, getting as comfortable as possible. Extorque went to speak, but clamped his jaw shut. He glanced to Ambulon. "Take care of him," he said, and the field medic looked shocked. "I want to talk to the others."

Ambulon watched Extorque go, the curtain swinging shut behind him. In the past, the medic would have pushed Ambulon away. Once they reached the medbay door, Ambulon was expected to stay there and await further instructions. He had no idea why Extorque suddenly changed his mind, but he didn't bother to wonder why. He had a patient to attend to.

"Right," Ambulon said, turning. He approached the officer on the berth. "Let's take a look." Trisil moved his hand aside. The gash was at least six inches in length, but according to Ambulon's quick scan of the wound, it wasn't very deep.

"I moved fast," Trisil smirked, "but not fast _enough_."

"Lie back."

The officer stretched carefully out on the berth. Ambulon ran another check on his vitals. "You've lost some energon," he noted.

"Bad?"

"No," Ambulon reassured. "I don't think we'll need to do a transfusion. Your reserves will take over." He pulled over a tray of instruments. They whirred and hissed to life, and Trisil watched with a wince as he started to sanitize the wound. "While my colleague is getting the story from the others, how about you tell me what happened?" Ambulon asked.

Trisil smiled and laid his head back. "The usual, really," he replied over the whine of the tools. "I was headed for my post when I spotted a couple miners having a row. I went to intervene. I tried calmly ordering one of the miners to lower their weapon, but... Well, in the end, he came at me. Fast. I was surprised. I moved aside before he could actually puncture anything important or do any real damage. Fortunately, he left himself vulnerable in the swing, and I packed quite a punch with my stun gun into his shoulder. Knocked him offline instantly."

"Do you know why the miners were fighting?"

"Yes... and no."

Ambulon looked up at him, briefly, optic ridge climbing.

Trisil chuckled. "There are three types of miners down here, that belong in their own little groups," he explained. "The first group is the indifferent. Those who never complain, do their work, and don't act out. They're the calm, rational types, and my favorite." He raised two fingers. "Second group consists of outsiders. The convicted sentenced to work in the mines. We have a number of them down here. Enough to form their own party. They vary from mischievous little troublemakers to the bitter but mild mannered. And the third group..."

"Yes?"

"The third group is the _real_ problem."

Ambulon blinked. He quickly finished cleaning the wound, setting his utensils aside. He left for just a moment, returning with a welder. "Might be a little loud, but I can hear you," he reassured. The welder switched on, growling.

"The guy I brought in - the guy who did this to me - he belongs to the third group," Trisil continued, having to raise his voice a little. He watched the doctor work the wound closed. "These guys... They're the acrimonious, angry type. They hate outsiders. 'Surface dwellers', they call us. Anyone who isn't born a miner is considered a blight against Cybertron. We're just a bunch of lazy, selfish, greedy no-good parasites - or 'bugs' - leeching off the planet's _real_ inhabitants."

"Well," Ambulon said, "given the poor relationship with the miners and the outside world, I'm not surprised they'd carry a grudge."

"No, doc. These guys don't need a reason to hate us. They hate us simply because we're not them. We can treat them like Primes, and they'd _still_ want us all to drop dead."

Ambulon frowned. "I see."

"They call themselves 'Solus Purists'," Trisil said. "They believe that miners should be running Cybertron and those who are not builders or function as they do should be used in servitude. Basically, they want to make _slaves_ out of us. Just because we're not miners." He shook his head. "To them, doc, there is no grey. It's just black and white, y'know? Miners are the underappreciated heroes, and everyone else play the villains. Nevermind the fact that we have professions, we work, we do our part in society and helping Cybertron grow."

Ambulon switched off the welder. "There has to be some sort of history involved. Hate doesn't just spring from nowhere."

Trisil laughed. "You really think that, don't you?" he chortled, and the medic looked mildly offended. "Look. Doc. There are, admittedly, a lot of my coworkers who hate the miners. They don't necessarily hate their job, but hate having to work with them. Some have an okay reason as to why, but most just plain hate the mechs. And why?" He shrugged. "Same reason Solus Purists hate surface dwellers. Because they're not them."

"Why hate the..." Ambulon trailed off. "Right. No reason." Trisil smiled and nodded. "It just seems odd to harbor such hatred and prejudice for no rational reason outside of sharing different functions and alt modes. That goes for both the officers _and_ the miners."

"Draftwind's told me about you," Trisil said. "You arrived here not too long ago, right? I work near Sector 6, a bit out of your way. I see you around during your trips, but we've not had any trouble requiring your services. But you... You were seriously fresh out of Vector Sigma when they brought you here. That makes you pretty young."

Ambulon snorted. "It's common knowledge that the rate of maturity varies from mech to mech. There are people down here twice my age that act like newborn protoforms." He switched back on the welder. "It just so happened I matured faster, at a rate natural for me. I guess that's normal for medics."

"Yeah, but usually don't medics have to go through the academy first? You may be born doctors, but you don't necessarily start off all skilled and knowledgeable."

Ambulon huffed. "Part of the 'emergency' upgrades the hospital gave me. Medical programs uploaded right to my CPU. No classes required."

"Wouldn't that cause an overload?"

"It happened while I was still offline. Limbo - neither dead nor alive. They monitored me closely, made sure my infantile CPU could handle the upload." The medic shrugged. "To be honest, most of my medical programming is basic. There's still a lot I need to learn. A lot I don't understand. But I guess they only programmed me with necessary and vital information for working down here. Just enough to make sure I keep you all online and functioning."

Trisil sighed. "I see. So it probably wasn't that heavy duty an upload then," he said. "But, still - You were born in the medic class, right?"

"Yes."

"So, you must be dyin' to learn more. All that medical curiosity. You could be at Iacon Medical Academy or the science academy, filling that doc-brain of yours with all sorts of interesting stuff. ... Instead, you're down here. Limited, only given what is needed of you. Your potential wasting away."

Ambulon sneered. "Not really. If I can save lives, that is all that should matter," he replied. "And... Yes. There are times where I wish I knew more. Fissure and Extorque - I envy them sometimes. They've got a wealth of medical knowledge and know-how. Way beyond my own programming and skills. But it doesn't help, you know. Being jealous. It doesn't get me anywhere. And it's not to say I'll never have a chance to expand my medical programming. Everyday I learn new things. Perhaps one day, I'll even go to ISA..." He stepped back, welder shutting down. "In the meantime," he said, feeling the closed wound, "I'm content doing what I can down here."

Trisil chuckled. "I still think it's a bit unfair, buuut... If you're happy, doc."

"Not like I have much choice in the matter right now." He helped the officer sit back up. "Anyway, try not to over-exert yourself. I know in your line of work that may be hard, but avoid any unnecessary heavy lifting or strenuous activity. I don't want to have to close your wound a second time."

"Right," Trisil replied.

Ambulon wet down a small rag, began to wash off the dried, spilled energon along Trisil's abdomen and leg. "Come back in three orns for a follow-up. If everything's in check, we'll start working on the cosmetics."

"Right. Okay, then." Trisil smiled. "Thanks, doc."

Ambulon stopped just before he could finish wiping off the remaining energon from Trisil's calf. "If I may ask you a question."

"Yeah, of course."

Ambulon looked up, meeting the officer's gaze. "What is your opinion of the miners?"

Trisil blinked. "Why?"

"Just curious."

Slowly, the officer smiled. "You think I hate 'em, don't you?" Ambulon shrugged. "I don't," he answered. "I think they're like everyone else. Just doing their job. I've no reason to hate them."

"But we don't always need a reason, right?"

Trisil laughed. "Well, _I_ do," he said. "But I have no animosity toward the miners. They've got it bad sometimes, that's true. I'm sure you know this. I figure if I treat them with respect, they'll do the same. It's worked out so far, for the most part. I've had no real problems with the miners - not until today." He sneered. "But Snubber's a Solus Purist. There's no hope for them. They'll carry their hate to the grave." The officer tilted his head, frowning. "It's tragic, really, when you think about it."

Ambulon nodded. "I just hope things may be different one day."

"You and a lot of people," Trisil retorted.

"Still," the medic said, "it's nice to know you recognize the damage. That you don't treat the miners like second class citizens."

Trisil snickered. "You're too nice, doc. And I'm probably too nice, too. It might get us in trouble one day. I might come in with something worse than this." He patted his welded wound.

"But being hateful and callous isn't exactly the better alternative."

"Nope. Play it nice, or watch your back," Trisil laughed. Ambulon took him by the elbows, helping him to a stand. The officer took a few brisk steps forward, paced once, then turned. "Good as new!" he beamed.

Ambulon's arms went akimbo. "Just remember what I told you."

"Right. Sharpshift's probably waiting for my report." Trisil nodded once at the medic. "See you in three orns, doc." He left then, Ambulon watching him go.

Ambulon's attention turned to Fissure's desk. 

Empty.

After cleaning up a bit and putting away the tools, Ambulon headed out of the medbay. Outside, Trisil was being escorted back to work with an officer and-- "Hold on!" Ambulon snapped, raising a hand. Both officers turned to regard the medic, but Kickspeed kept his back to him. "Where is _he_ going?" He pointed to the young mech.

"Back on duty."

"By whose orders?"

"Sharpshift's, of course."

Ambulon scowled. "He's not going anywhere," he insisted. He grabbed Kickspeed by the arm, yanking him away from the officers. Trisil raised a hand before his coworker could say anything. Kickspeed remained silent as Ambulon guided him quickly into Sharpshift's office, the security chief speaking with Extorque. Snubber slumped back in one of the cells, still unconscious and cuffed.

"What's this about sending Kickspeed back out on the field?" Ambulon demanded, and both mechs looked at him with alarm. "Can't you see he's obviously in shock?" He gestured to the young miner's face; blank, optics still pale, slouching forward. "He's not fit for duty!"

"I don't see why not," Sharpshift insisted. "There's nothing physically wrong with him, is there?" He looked to Extorque. "You examined him and said he was fine."

"Yes," Extorque replied, "but his state of mind is--"

"He can't go back to work," Ambulon interjected, sharply. "He needs to return to his quarters."

Sharpshift frowned. "How long?"

"The entire day."

" _What_? But I need him down here! I can spare him two groons, but that's it."

"Two groons isn't enough. In fact, he probably needs to see a psychologist," Ambulon spat. His spark was thumping loudly in his chest. Perhaps it was the sudden surge of energy or the anger finally breaking free of its dam, but he boldly stepped forward and said, "Kickspeed needs to be transferred. Not to a new post, not to a new sector. He's _not_ a miner."

Sharpshift's optics darkened. "Kickspeed has been sentenced four cycles by the--"

"Four more orns of this and he might not make it," Ambulon growled. He looked to Extorque, remaining quiet in his corner. "You agree with me, right? You _know_ he doesn't belong down here."

Extorque looked back to Sharpshift. The security chief's hard, dangerous gaze made him flinch. "It..." He swallowed. "It's... Well. It's... complicated--"

"There is nothing complicated about any of this!" Ambulon barked, surprised. He had hoped Extorque would back him up.

"Ambulon. I understand you and... Kickspeed have become somewhat close, but you're letting your emotions dictate--"

"I can take this to Armorshield, if you want," Ambulon insisted. Oh, and that was the magic word. For suddenly Sharpshift's optics were wide and both medics could feel the burst of anger in his EM field swallow the room whole. "If that's what it takes, I'll go to Armorshield about transferring him."

Sharpshift was quiet a moment. His denta ground against one another, fingers tight around his arm rests. Hard enough to crush. He glared over to Extorque, who said nothing, but the look in his eyes - he agreed with Ambulon. Sharpshift turned back to the field medic, defiantly standing his ground. His optics burned and dimmed. "Fine," he said, much too quietly, "I will speak to Kickspeed's case manager and see what I can do." Metal creaked beneath his fingers. "In the meantime, take Kickspeed back to his quarters, and then return to work."

Ambulon bristled. He didn't feel at all triumphant. "Thank you, sir."

"Leave," Sharpshift growled, jerking his head to the door. He turned, facing his console. Ambulon looked to Extorque; a second later, the doctors headed out of the office, Kickspeed in tow.

Ambulon had wanted to ask Extorque what he meant by "complicated" in regards to Kickspeed being removed. He wanted to know why the doctor had been so hesitant and quiet to agree with him. Why he hadn't tried to apparently appeal Kickspeed's case before Ambulon came kicking down the door. It made his spark twist with anger, and he could barely look at his colleague, keeping his irritable gaze on the ground ahead of him.

"Want me to take him to--"

"No," Ambulon growled, possessively gripping Kickspeed's arms. Extorque stepped away. "Just go back to work. Sharpshift's orders."

Ambulon was sure that must have burned or offended Extorque, but he really didn't care.

\---

Ambulon delivered Kickspeed back to his quarters, spoke with one of Armorshield's officers up top. "Just keep an optic on him," he ordered. "Check on him every ten to fifteen kliks." The officer nodded, and so Ambulon quickly headed back to the mines.

When he returned, Fissure was at his desk, humming brightly. He was late; Ambulon said nothing, however. He'd all ready pissed off one, maybe two of his superior officers that morning. "Have a fun trip?" he asked, instead, masking his annoyance.

Fissure looked up, smiling. "Yup! Lots of work to be done. Sorry I didn't give you a head's up beforehand. Figured your welcoming packet might have mentioned something."

"What is it exactly that you do on these trips?"

"Oh, it's boring stuff," Fissure scowled, waving a hand at him. "Nothing interesting, trust me."

 _Yeah, I bet_. Ambulon instead looked around, searching. "Extorque with a patient?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. He's out. Got called out for something just as I arrived."

Ambulon frowned. "... I see."

"He should be back soon." The old doctor looked to him. "Why? Anything you need?"

"No."

"Good," Fissure chortled. "You should probably get back to work, then, before Sharpshift tears you a new pain receptor."

\---

Ambulon spent the duration of his day out on the field, per usual.

Fortunately, there hadn't been much ruckus or episodes like this morning. Though he did stop by Trisil's sector to see how he was doing. The officer was speaking to one of the miners, probably in regards to work, with the way he was gesturing to the drill and stones. However, there appeared to be no hostility between them. He looked serious during his talk, and the miner was listening, nodding along.

Ambulon made his way to Zing and Zel's post next. They were both shocked to hear about what happened. "Is the little brat okay?" Zing asked, for once lacking his usual taunting undertone.

"Snubber, right?" Zel shivered angrily. "When I get me 'ands on 'im..."

"No you won't," Ambulon scowled. "We don't need another fight to break out. Besides, you'll only cause a heap of trouble. From what I've gathered, Snubber's friends with some rather unsavory fellows."

"He's a fraggin' Purist," Zing spat. "Y'know, workin' down here ain't the best of jobs, but it's what we do, an' it's got its perks. But them - them _Solus Purists_ \- make it out t'be some sorta religion. An' if you don't share the same beliefs, yer considered their enemy."

"But if you're a miner--"

"It don't matter. Outsider, miner. If ya don't follow 'em, yer against 'em." Zing shuddered. "One-a these days they're gonna do somethin' terrible. I'm not sayin' they're gonna do somethin' dangerous or nothin'. I'm sayin' they're gonna do somethin' stupid an' get their afts handed to them."

"How many Purists work down here?"

Zing looked to Zel. "You know more than I do about these lunatics, Zel."

The large miner grumbled. "Fifty, last I 'eard."

"That's... disturbingly high, given the fact there's one hundred and fifty-eight miners working here."

"They was fifty-two," Zing sneered. "Until their leaders died."

Ambulon blinked. "Who?"

"Sickle an' Scythe," Zel replied. "They took over after the original leader who formed the Purists deactivated durin' an accident. They were an awful couple; always causin' trouble. Always tryin' t'start fights."

Zing elbowed Zel in his side. "They tried recruitin' you once, remember? You shot 'em down real hard. They even tried to fight ya, the sore losers, but just one swing-a yer fist, an' the slaggers went runnin'!"

Zel snickered. "Aye. Miserable little punks."

"How did they die?" Ambulon asked.

"They were murdered."

Ambulon's optics widened.

"Supposedly they went t'Tarn durin' a break, an' never came back. Not until their parts were found some orns later," Zing explained, shrugging. "Everyone blamed RiffRaff, but in the end, I guess he was innocent." He snorted. "Don't believe it fer a minute."

"Why's that?"

"Riff an' the Purists don't get along, luv," Zel replied. "Riff's got 'imself a small gang down 'ere. All of 'em criminals like 'imself. They ain't miners. Purists _'ate_ anyone who ain't a miner, or one of 'em. Riff 'ates miners. They clashed a few times, but Sharpshift an' Armorshield 'ave kept 'em from really goin' at it. Though once Riff got in a bad argument wif Sickle an' Scythe. Real bad, I 'ear, but officers broke it up before it could get physical. But death threats were bein' thrown 'round; both groups sayin' they was gonna kill the others if they ever crossed paths again."

"I only know a little about this case," Ambulon said, and he would have known more had Extorque not stopped him, "but Riff had no alibis and every bit of motive to kill Sickle and Scythe, and yet... There had been very little in way of an investigation. I don't even think Armorshield was involved."

Zing drew a finger across his mouth. "Tightlipped case. Sharpshift insisted it remain that way. His business, his people, _not_ 'Shield's. They hate each other, so I guess that's why. But everyone knows Riff was involved with Sickle an' Scythe's deaths. Whether he or one of his men did it, we dunno. But we know he had _somethin'_ to do with their murders."

"The tension between Riff's group an' the Purists has only increased," Zel added. "Sharp's got a hold of things right now, but... Sooner er later, it's gonna be the Pit down 'ere. An' if ya ain't fightin' fer a side, yer gonna be stuck in the middle."

"But if Snubber's attacked an officer, Sharp's gonna have t'report to 'Shield," Zing said. "Jus' hopin' this means Snubber gets tossed outta here and shipped off to Garrus-1."

Ambulon scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The politics down here are gonna be the death of me, if nothing else," he spat. "It's all about going behind each others backs, hiding and withdrawing information, keeping secrets, playing favorites. Sharpshift seems damned determined to keep Armorshield from knowing what goes on down here."

"Sometimes it dun even matter. Sometimes none of 'em even _care_."

Ambulon sighed. "Yeah. I get that. But, Sigma - gang wars, cover-ups... All these things keep cropping up. No one's got any answers. Is anyone even _looking_?"

Zing shook his head. "Down here it's a whole new world, doc. Down here, the laws above don't really apply. It's brutal an' crazy, yeah, but that's how it's been fer cycles now. Sure it sucks, but it's been workin' so far. Sharp don't wanna change it, and 'Shield's too outta the loop to know or probably even care."

Zel pat the medic on the shoulder. "Jus' focus on takin' care of Kicker. Get 'im outta 'ere. An' if y'can persuade stubborn ole Sharp, get Snubber outta 'ere too."

"These scum-guzzlers make it so hard for hard workin' mechs like us!" Zing snapped, throwing up his arms. "We just wanna work in peace an' get the job done. We don't complain an' fight an' act like a bunch of crazies like Riff an' the Purists. We're a dyin' breed, Ambulon! Sooner er later, only me an' Zel will be left standin' while everyone goes off t'pick sides."

Ambulon sighed. "We could use more workers like you. Though sometimes I wonder how you put up with all this and _not_ snap."

"Ehh, it's a livin'."

"Like Zing 'ere said," Zel chortled, giving his friend's head a pat, "we ain't complainin' none. We take the good wif the bad. Seems that's 'ard for lotsa people down 'ere."

Ambulon slowly smiled. "Well, admittedly, I'm still warming up," he said. "But... No. Like someone told me recently, 'there's a lot of good and there's a lot of bad on both sides of the field'."

"Ez'actly!" Zel laughed. "If we was t'judge all of ya on yer alt mode or yer job, then we wouldn't be friends, now would we? S'always good t'have a medic as a friend, too."

"Ain't no use bein' so bitter 'bout everythin'," Zing said, folding his arms. "At least, not in the way Snubber an' his posse are."

"I suppose it varies by case. I guess you've never had a problem with the supers, so there's nothing for you to be angry about."

"Maybe."

Zing shrugged.

Ambulon sighed. "I should get back to work," he said. "But if I hear anything on Kickspeed, I'll keep you updated."

"Always a pleasure chattin' wif you, luv," Zel purred, and he and his friend waved the medic goodbye.

\---

An hour later, Ambulon returned to the medbay.

Fissure was nowhere to be seen, but Extorque was sitting at his desk, reading something on his console. Ambulon could tell the golden medic was a little on edge. There was a ripple of something indescribable in his EM field. For a moment, he almost felt guilty - as if he had caused Extorque's anxiety.

No. Ambulon swallowed down any guilt. He was still upset about Extorque failing to back him up during his argument with Sharpshift. Yet, at the same time... Well, there was no damn reason to be moping around the place. Ambulon was certainly tired of dealing with gloom and doom for the day.

"Is Fissure here?"

"On break," Extorque replied, voice low and void of emotion. Yup, just like before.

Ambulon clenched his jaw actuators. He moved from the door and toward his desk. Didn't want to sit down, really. He glanced around the office, looking for something to do - His gaze stopped on the bookshelf beside Extorque's desk. He hadn't really noticed before, but there was a rather extensive collection of datalogs neatly lined up along two shelves.

"Do those datalogs all belong to you?"

Extorque continued reading. "Some," he answered without looking up.

"May I...?"

"Sure."

Ambulon moved over to the shelves, careful around Extorque, as if he was prone to lash out and attack. He looked through the datalogs, reading their titles along the thin spines. A good deal of them, he found, pertained to viruses. Creating viruses, destroying viruses, controlling viruses; a history on viruses, known viruses, hypothetical viruses. He picked out a few, dropping them back into place with a 'click'.

"A lot of datalogs on viruses and diseases here."

"Those are mine."

Ambulon blinked. He turned back to Extorque. "All of them?"

A mumble, "Yes."

"I... didn't know you were so interested in viral diseases," Ambulon noted, picking out a random datalog. VIRUSES A TO Z.

"Because I never told you."

Ambulon sighed internally. Back to the old days, he supposed.

"... But."

The field medic turned, slightly surprised. Extorque was looking back at him now, still blank faced. "Back at the academy, I majored in infectious diseases, virology, and immunology," he explained. "I just find them interesting, I guess."

"Well, it's always a good thing to know how to cure or destroy them."

"That's true," Extorque hummed. "Partially one of the reasons I took this job."

"Oh?"

"Lots of hostile territory, rich with bacterium, most of which has yet to be discovered," Extorque said. "It's a breeding ground for viruses. Fortunately - or unfortunately, in regards to my interests - there's been no new type of viral infection or disease found in Cybertron's twelve mining sectors. Just the common types, which are usually easy to repair or destroy."

Ambulon smirked. "I can't say I feel sorry for you."

"They must have programmed you with basic knowledge on the common illnesses found in the mines, right?"

"Mm, yes," Ambulon replied. "But I've yet to encounter such a related case."

Extorque pursed his lips. "... Have you... I mean, in your programming," he said, and knit his brows, "is there any information on mining facilities off-planet?"

Ambulon thought a moment. "Not really?"

"There are different types of viruses on off-planet outposts, you see, none of which are native to or found here. But I guess they only gave you the ones found underground Cybertron."

"Sounds like you'd rather be working somewhere else."

"Sometimes," Extorque said, "more recently, in fact..." He shook his head. "There's one facility... Outpost C-11. It has... a very unique type of--" He stopped, then, falling quiet. Ambulon blinked, waited for him to continue. The medic grumbled and turned back to his console. "Nevermind."

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I forgot I'm in the middle of something."

"Ah..." Ambulon felt a little disappointed, however. He was actually interested. He waited a few more minutes before picking out a couple of datalogs. "Extorque."

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I borrow these?"

A second later, Extorque looked back. Ambulon showed him the logs. The golden medic thought a moment. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm wondering if you can lend me these datalogs to lend to someone else."

"Huh?"

"There's a miner here who goes by the name of Scrooseloose," Ambulon explained. "He loves to read, but doesn't get his servos on much material." He looked imploring. "Do you think you can part with these logs for a meta or two?"

Extorque squinted. "... Well," he mumbled, "I guess there's no harm... But are you sure your friend wants to read about virology?"

Ambulon shrugged. "If not, I'll return the logs tomorrow."

"All right then," Extorque replied. "But if your friend loses them, you're buying me new copies."

"Done."

"Oh, and."

Ambulon looked up from the datalogs. Extorque had turned back to his desk, stopped. "... When you need to speak to Sharpshift about something in the future... Anything, really..." He finally met his coworker's gaze, and Ambulon could tell he was a little uncomfortable. "Come to me first, all right?" He raised a hand as the field medic opened his mouth to speak. "Just... promise you'll speak to me first. Sharpshift didn't take too kindly being talked down to, and while I believe you were in the right... To avoid any problems like the one we had today, I'll do the talking from now on. Okay?"

No, not okay. Ambulon squeezed the datalogs until near breaking point. He sighed and looked away. "Fine," he said. "I don't want to argue anyway." Especially with such pigheaded, irresponsible... He sat loudly back at his desk, careful not to slam the datalogs down _too_ hard. He was aware Extorque was watching him - felt a small strand of pity reach out for him - but Ambulon brushed him off and pretended to be busy.

Work would be over soon. High grade would be stocked to the brim at the bar tonight. While Ambulon had no intention of getting drunk, at least a nice buzz would help the processor ache.

\---

BETTER THEN NOTHIN was packed.

Ambulon wasn't really surprised. He was pretty sure at least a hundred of the miners were shoved and jammed into the bar. Probably no room to even move around. The noises were louder, more boisterous from what he remembered. The patrons inside sounded like they were having the time of their lives. It was all well and good, but Ambulon wasn't sure if he had the patience or energy to put up with all this rowdy noise and energy.

Still, he did make a promise.

Ambulon watched as the trucks that brought in the high grade shipment headed back out. Officers were scrambling around the compound, either to their quarters or to the bar. Two guards had been stationed at the entrance, and they looked none too happy about it. They glared at the medic as he walked past them and inside.

More lively than Ambulon had imagined, but not nearly as crowded. They had added on, it seemed. Tents tied together toward the very end to give the bar extra room. That was good, at least. Still, among the giants, Ambulon felt suddenly insignificant. He kept to the wall, looking for Scrooseloose before attempting to weave through the scattered crowds.

It was hard to see anyone, what with how tall and wide most of the miners were. Ambulon strained his head and vision, hoping Scrooseloose was sitting somewhere nearby.

Though, he did wonder - who in this bar was a Solus Purist? A friend of RiffRaff? There were certainly some here. It was unavoidable given the numbers. Ambulon couldn't tell who was who. Which miner wanted to gut him for being a medic, and which miner wanted to gut him for no reason other than to see his energon spill. They blended in well with their comrades, masking their true intentions and feelings from reaching the surface.

"Hello, everyone. I hope we're not late."

Many of the dirtied construction workers suddenly dropped what they were doing and looked back to the entrance. As Ambulon turned to acknowledge the new, strange voice, he suddenly felt... lightheaded. His spark seemed to slow, and tension knotted around its chamber settled. He felt as if he had just been suddenly, powerfully sedated.

Warm optics raised to meet a tall, lithe mech at the door. Teal and blue in color with friendly yellow optics; two mechs stood behind him, sporting the same color scheme.

"Effy!"

The cry ignited a series of whoops and hollers. Soon, miners were shoving past each other to meet with the teal mech and his friends. They swarmed around him like buzzing protoforms, and the mech with the gentle smile would pat their arms or shoulders and greet them properly and tenderly. Ambulon had no idea who this guy was, but apparently he was rather popular with the miners.

The teal mech turned and met Ambulon's gaze. The medic shivered and felt that strange lukewarm sensation pour through his EM field again. The miners parted obediently, allowing the mech to approach Ambulon, his partners trailing after. "You must be the new field medic," he purred, and took one of Ambulon's hands in both of his. Squeezed and shook it gently. "You are doing great work here, Ambulon."

Ambulon felt as if he were about to slip into stasis. "Thank... Thank you." He blinked, tiredly. "And who might you be...?"

The teal mech started to speak, but then fell quiet. His face turned thoughtful. Ambulon blinked then suddenly felt a light pinch to his left shoulder. He looked aside, nearly flipping over as a hand was working at a seam along his shoulder. The hand came from an extra arm stretching out from the teal mech's back. There was another, fourth arm, folded away. However, before Ambulon could ask what was going on, the hand gave the seam another pinch and then--

The medic blinked. He felt... relief?

"Small knot. Don't worry, I got it out," the teal mech explained, withdrawing his third arm. It tucked back behind him and out of sight. He smiled again, releasing Ambulon's hand. "My name is Effleurage. And these..." He gestured and turned half-way to his followers. "Are my assistants, Petris and Rhythmic."

The two mechs smiled and nodded at Ambulon.

"Effy here's a master masseuse!" a miner shouted, suddenly, to a choir of agreements.

Effleurage chortled. "I like to visit and offer my services every once in a while. Especially when the high grade shipments come in."

A miner nearly shoved Ambulon over. "Eff, I gots me a reaaaaal bad kink in my back," he whined, having to bend over to get face to face with the teal mech, "can y'work yer magic on it?"

Effleurage nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Ambulon rubbed the back of his head, confused. He watched as the miners escorted the three massage therapists to the others waiting eagerly. A second later, that strange calm that seemed to overtake Ambulon disappeared, and he was more frazzled now than before.

_clunk clunk CLUNK_

What the Hell had just happ--

"Ambulon!"

Ambulon gasped as he was suddenly yanked off the ground, big, strong arms clamped tight around him. He looked up, Scrooseloose beaming audiol to audiol down at him. "Ya made it!" the miner cheered.

"I said I would," Ambulon smirked, and wiggled in the bear grip. "Um..."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Scrooseloose gently lowered the medic back to the ground, let him go. Ambulon stretched, popping things back into place. "Did I hurt ya?" Scrooseloose looked concerned.

"No, no," Ambulon reassured, flippantly waving a hand, "I'm fine." He looked to the entrance, where more miners were shuffling inside. "I suppose we better find a seat before--"

"Gotcha covered!" Scrooseloose exclaimed. He took Ambulon by the arm and guided him across the bar, over to a small table. An ornery looking old mech sat in one of the chairs, legs stretched out and folded on the other. "Thanks, Buck," Scrooseloose said, offering him two credits. The old miner spit on the ground, took the credits, and left.

Ambulon watched him go. "Who was...?"

"Buck. I paid him to watch our table while I looked for you." Scrooseloose gestured to one of the chairs and sat. "He may look old, but he's a fighter."

Ambulon looked to the pitchers of energon on the table. "Did you buy these?" he asked, sitting.

"Yeah," the large miner replied. "Stuff goes fast, y'know. Didn't know when you were gonna get here, so I made sure to stock up..."

"I told you I'd pay for my own."

"Well, then, give me yer credits instead?"

Ambulon smirked. As he went to repay Scrooseloose, the miner widened his optics and threw up his hands-- "No, no!" he exclaimed. "I was jus' kiddin'! No need to pay me back! Really!"

"It's no problem--"

"An' it's no problem t'me, either, really!"

Ambulon sighed. "Fine," he said, raising his hands. Scrooseloose smiled, relieved. "But I owe you one, okay?"

"Sure, sure!" Scrooseloose laughed. He quickly poured Ambulon a cube, then his own. "See ya got t'meet Effy."

Ambulon looked around, toward one corner of the bar. Effleurage had transformed into what appeared to be an intricate massage chair, a thin miner crawling up to lay back on top of him. Petris was kneading one miner's back, and Rhythmic assessing another miner's shoulder joint.

"So, what? They come here and provide massages?" Ambulon chortled. "Didn't think Armorshield would be willing to pay for their services."

"They don't get paid," Scrooseloose corrected. "Effy an' his boys give free massages and stuff. They come all the way from Iacon, too."

Ambulon was surprised. "Why?"

"Effy once told us he thinks we deserve it," Scrooseloose replied. "'Fer all yer hard work, you deserve the best of treatments. No charge.'" He swooned. "I got a massage from Effy once, and it was sooooo nice. I almost 'bout started cryin', it felt so good." The miner sat forward. "But, y'know, I guess as part of his function or design or somethin', his EM field is specialized to overpower an' subdue anyone within the near area. So when yer like, right in front of 'im, you suddenly feel all relaxed an' carefree."

Ambulon smirked. "So that explains that sudden malaise earlier."

"But it felt good, right?"

"Yes, just... caught me off guard."

"Did everyone when he first came around. But we're used to it. S'nice, so no use complainin', right?"

"It's very thoughtful and considerate of them, to come all the way from Iacon just to give free massages," Ambulon said, taking a sip of his high grade. It nearly knocked him right out of his chair. "Vector _Sigma_..."

"Scrap's strong here," Scrooseloose snickered. "S'what we order."

Ambulon shook his head. "I'll probably be knocked into stasis before I even finish half this cube."

"Take it sloooow," Scrooseloose hummed. He demonstrated by taking a small gulp of his high grade. "An', besides. Y'can't konk out now! You gotta get yer complimentary Effy massage." He pointed back to the masseuse; the miner lying in the vibrating chair was smiling and melting into the spare hands kneading into his shoulders.

Ambulon rubbed his head. A massage _did_ sound nice... "Oh! Almost forgot." He removed the small pod attached to his back, sat his drink aside and placed it on the table. Scrooseloose watched him, curious. "These are for you." The pod flipped open, and the medic removed a small stack of datalogs. Scrooseloose's optics lit up as they were handed to him. "I'm only _lending_ them to you, mind you. They're Extorque's. I figure two meta-cycles will be enough for you to read them all."

Scrooseloose's jaw dropped, quivering, closed and dropped again. His optics were flushed and he looked completely speechless. "T-Thank you," he choked a second later, and big, trembling hands took the datalogs.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm... I'm fine. Jus'..." Scrooseloose smiled at the datalogs in his hands. "Really happy, s'all." He looked back to Ambulon, all a-glow. "Tell Ex I said thanks. I'll take real good care of these." He hugged the logs to his chest. "Won't let no one touch 'em. Bring 'em back to you in two metas."

"I believe you," Ambulon reassured. "They're medical logs on viruses and diseases, however. So I'm not sure if you're still interested."

"Course I am!" the miner squawked. "I jus' love readin'. I don't get much stuff t'read often, so I ain't picky. I'll enjoy 'em."

"Good. So..." Ambulon curled hands around his cube. "How are things going in your sector? The fault acting up?"

"There was a small quake earlier," Scrooseloose explained. "Nothin' bad happened. Standard stuff. I think everythin's back t'normal." He flipped open an empty compartment on his hip, sliding the datalogs carefully inside. It hissed and creaked shut, locking. "So no worries there."

Ambulon smiled. "That's good. So--"

Suddenly, a miner working as a bartender darted over, depositing two small cubes of high grade on the table. He left without a word. Scrooseloose and Ambulon glanced at the cubes, back to the miner, now lost in the crowd. Ambulon then spotted what looked to be a small note attached to one of the cubes. He carefully removed it, switched the scrap of pad on.

THANKS FOR YOUR HELP

\- TO

Ambulon blinked. He looked up, scanning the area. He stopped when he spotted Tune Out staring at him from a far corner. The mech was on duty keeping things in order, hovering nearby Boulderdash playing cards with another old miner. Tune Out nodded at him once, then looked away.

"Who's 'TO'?" Scrooseloose asked.

Ambulon snorted. "A friend, I guess. Repaying a favor." He picked up the tiny cube, shook the glowing energy around. "This looks different from the high grade you bought."

"It's probably engex. Stuff's not nearly as strong." Scrooseloose frowned. "Shoulda bought you that instead..."

"It's fine," Ambulon insisted.

A split second later, the bartender returned, placing two cubes on the table. Darted off again without a word. "Holy _frag_ ," Scrooseloose chuckled, "how many people are in yer debt, doc?"

Ambulon ripped the card strapped to his cube off, turned it over. Drenched in spit, it read: MINES BETER. He looked down at his drink; the texture, the smell, it was... plain energon. At the sound of familiar cursing, Ambulon looked back to Tune Out, who was now arguing with Boulderdash. The old miner was cackling and spitting the entire time.

"Hopefully that's the last." Ambulon took another gulp of his high grade. He squinted and scowled. " _Really_ strong stuff."

"You wanna go outside?"

Ambulon shook his head. "No, no," he said, and forced down another hard swallow. "No, I'm good. Don't wanna lose the seats you fought and paid to save." He nodded at the giant miner. "So, uh... Is Effleurage the only surprise in store for the night?"

Scrooseloose chuckled. "Sometimes we get musicians from Tarn that sing an' play fer us. Sometimes fer free, sometimes fer a small fee." He shrugged. "Guess they couldn't make it t'night."

"I had begun to think all outsiders hated or feared you," Ambulon said, forcing down another gulp. "But it's good to see I was wrong. You've got friends on both the inside and outside, it seems."

"Never doubted that," Scrooseloose replied. "Jus' wish there were more of 'em."

Ambulon's face pinched as he took another drink. "Well!" he sighed, slamming down the cube. "Y'got me, Scroo. I'm your friend." He slapped his chest. "You can count on me, buddy."

Scrooseloose snickered. "Hey, so, if yer my friend... Maybe you can tell me how you do it." He sat forward. "Tightclinch never said nothin', but... How is it that yer able to lift an' carry mechs my size an' weight so easily on yer back? Especially when they dun fit?"

Ambulon scrubbed his face. "Electromag... magnetic," he answered. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "There's a pack on my back. It generates a type of... of energy field... carries you guys. It's... It's complicated." He shook his head and waved a hand frantically. "Don't ask, d-don't ask."

"Yer startin' to slurr, doc."

"I told you!" Ambulon grunted, eyeing his cube. "Jus' half of this... this _alone_."

"Maybe y'ought to stop then? 'Cause if this is you tipsy..."

Ambulon nodded firmly. "Right." He shoved all the cubes and vials of energon over to Scrooseloose, nearly knocking them off the table in the process. "Here. They're all yours. Knock yourself out. ... No, don't. That's not - that's not sound medical advice. Don't."

Scrooseloose laughed. "Dun worry, doc. I don't plan on gettin' overcharged."

"Oi! Yoooou! _Oi_!"

Ambulon looked up from slumping over the table. Dim optics caught Zel and Zing moving swiftly through the bar, over to the entrance. They stopped nearby, in front of a confused officer. Ambulon had to squint, but... Trisil? Was that Trisil?

"Far savin' Kicker's life," he heard Zel laugh, "we saved ya this!" Zing then produced a cube of high grade, practically shoving it against Trisil's chest.

Trisil blinked, laughing softly. "Well... Thanks, guys." He slowly took the cube. "You didn't have to, you know. Just doing my job."

Zel guffawed and threw a large arm around Trisil's shoulders. "Ya off duty? Ya betchayar!" He dragged the officer through the bar, Zing sticking to his free side. "C'mon! Les go 'ave a nice drink t'gether, 'ey?"

The three disappeared, Zel's cackling trickling out from behind them. 

Ambulon looked back to Scrooseloose. "That was nice of Zel an' Zing," he said, and promptly smashed his face into the table. A couple miners nearby gave the two a look as Scrooseloose gasped and jumped.

"Medic down!" someone shouted, and laughter filled the bar.

Scrooseloose stood, quickly helping Ambulon onto his feet. He hooked one large arm around the tiny medic's waist, balancing him. Ambulon grumbled and slouched against him; at least he was still able to walk properly. Scrooseloose kept beside him, however, and helped him out of the bar.

"So... So embarrassing," Ambulon grumbled, burying his face in a hand. "I'm not even overcharged! J-Just can't... handle fraggin'--"

"It's strong stuff, doc," Scrooseloose reassured, guiding him back to the inhabitation building.

"I'm a lightweight, I guess."

"Don't be so hard on yerself." The miner patted his back.

"Terrible drinking company."

"Now, now. I'm not upset."

"My tanks are about to purge."

"Oh."

Ambulon spent the next two minutes forcing his body to keep the energon down. He spent the next two minutes after throwing it all up. Scrooseloose stood behind him, awkward but concerned, occasionally patting his back and comforting the medic as he hurled against the fence. Five minutes later, the giant miner was helping Ambulon inside the building.

"In a couple orns, we go on vacation. No work fer a day. Free to do whatever. We like to hold parties in Tarn." Scrooseloose helped him onto the elevator. "I'll take ya, if y'want. They've got a wider selection of high grade. Stuff yer system can handle."

Ambulon made a small 'guh' noise, kneading the heel of his palm hard into his forehead.

"We'll have us loads of fun!" Scrooseloose said as they arrived at Ambulon's door. The medic weakly punched in the code; nearly fell inside as the door swished open. Scrooseloose gasped and grabbed his arm again, keeping him upright. "Are you gonna be okay, doc?"

"I'm gonna... Gonna sit an' relax for a bit," Ambulon muttered, sighing. "Go to the washracks after. Once I'm... I'm more stabilized, I should be okay." He went to pat the miner's back, missed, tried again. Finally swatted his arm weakly. "Thanks... Sorry. Again."

Scrooseloose nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. However, he didn't want to argue with the medic. He was no doctor, anyway. "I'm jus' glad you came," he reassured, and helped Ambulon to a sit on the edge of his berth. "An' for loanin' me the datalogs. I'm real excited 'bout reading them."

Ambulon nodded, winced. "You're welcome." Dim, narrow optics turned to the door. "You should go... go back to the party. Get a, um... Massage from... I forget his name all ready."

"Heh heh. Is it okay if I just stay here with you?"

Ambulon blinked, one optic at a time. "Um... Why?"

"To make sure nothin' happens to you. Be here in case ya need help."

"... I'll be okay."

"..."

"... Sure. Fine." Ambulon slowly laid back on the berth, switching off his optics. "But, I warn you: I'm not very interesting conversation right now."

Scrooseloose shrugged. He went to sit on the berth, but reconsidered. Might crush it beneath his girth. He sat on the floor instead. "That's okay," he said. "I don't mind."

"Hurm," Ambulon mumbled, resting his hands on his chest. He turned his head aside, sniffed.

Scrooseloose watched him closely. Said nothing, just fiddled his fingers in his lap. Once he determined Ambulon had fallen into recharge - accidentally, but he didn't want to wake him - he removed one of the datalogs from his compartment. Switched it on and sat there, contentedly reading as his friend slept soundly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN THAT WAS LONG.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidents happen.

" _Two deca-cycles_!?"

Extorque stood, hands raised, as Ambulon suddenly grabbed at his head with a pained snarl. "Whoa, whoa," Extorque said, and moved up to his coworker, "easy now." He pulled over a chair, and Ambulon sat with a grumble, still cradling his head. "Are you all right?"

Ambulon scowled. "Yes. I'm fine. Just... a little hung-over."

"The stuff they ship in is really strong."

"I'm aware of that."

Extorque frowned. "If you'd like, you can go lie down in one--"

"No," Ambulon hissed, swatting a hand. He pushed fingers into his temples. "I'm fine. Just got a little processor ache." He glared back up at the golden mech. "But _two deca-cycles_? Is Sharpshift out of his CPU?"

"According to him, that was the best he could do. Kickspeed's case manager was very firm about this. But, I suppose... better than four cycles?"

"No." Ambulon sat back, growling. "This is utterly ridiculous."

Extorque crossed the medbay, into the medicine closet. "Well, at least Kickspeed was transferred back to S5.25 with Zel and Zing," he added. He returned, dropping a small packet in Ambulon's lap. "Mix that with your energon. The ache should go away within five kliks."

Ambulon looked down, picking up the small baggy. He sighed, frowning. Extorque placed a small cube of energon on his desk, listening. "I just... can't believe they'd force Kickspeed down here another two deca-cycles. After what happened yesterday, and the fact he still hasn't completely recovered from the shock..." He scowled and angrily ripped the packet open with his teeth, dumping its contents in his drink. "Load of scrap."

"I understand your frustration. Believe me, I do," Extorque reassured, "but... Really, there's nothing we can do. Except keep Kickspeed in good health and monitor his condition." Ambulon grumbled something, mixing his energon and the medicine with a stirring rod. He tossed it aside then took a hard swallow. The field medic nearly spit it back out, wincing and loudly forcing down the energon.

"If I told you it tasted like slag, you wouldn't have drank it," Extorque added, simply.

Ambulon wiped his mouth, squinting. "Yeah... Thanks..." he rasped.

"Oh!" Extorque snapped his fingers. "There's some good news, however. Snubber's been removed from the mines and transferred to the Tarnian Law Enforcement headquarters. They're probably going to ship him off to Garrus-1." He sat back, frown lopsided. "At least, I hope. Given how the law's been handling cases like Kickspeed's..."

"He'll probably just be thrown to a different sector somewhere on Cybertron," Ambulon scowled. He forced down more of the energon, just like last night. "Still." At least the headache was going away now. "When did Sharpshift tell you all this?"

"Before you came in."

Ambulon rolled his optics. "So, he's seriously avoiding me, huh? Just like a protoform..."

"Well, like you said, he's a bit immature," Extorque replied. "He's made me the middle mech, you know." He shook his head. "Either way, he said if you had qualms with Kickspeed's new sentence, you can take it up with his case manager, because it's out of his hands and he won't answer anymore questions."

Ambulon snorted. "I bet he's even more sore about losing Snubber."

"He had no choice in that matter," the golden medic stated. "Armorshield found out and put his fist down. Sharpshift couldn't even open his mouth to argue or plead. Armorshield immediately removed Snubber from the compound and into a TLE jail cell."

"Well, boohoo." Ambulon was still grumpy and in pain, he could afford being a little bratty. Extorque smirked. "Anyway, where's Fissure? Please don't tell me he's running late or off in Tarn again."

"Neither," Extorque answered. He pointed to the far wall. "Next door speaking with Sharpshift."

"About what?"

Extorque shrugged.

Ambulon sighed. "Oh, good. More secrets." He slapped at the stack of files on his desk.

Extorque frowned. He looked out the medbay window, watched as miners and officers strolled by. His gaze turned back to his shelves, missing a handful of datalogs. "What did your friend think of the logs?" he asked.

"He said thank you, and that he's excited to read them."

"No sort of reaction regarding their content?"

"No. Like I said, he takes whatever he can get."

"Scrooseloose, right? The miner who works along the fault in Sector 6?"

Ambulon nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He's... a good mech. Very friendly, and very lonely. Kind of feel sorry for him."

"Well, if he likes those datalogs, I can loan him some more."

Ambulon smiled. "Really? I think he'd like that."

Extorque nodded. "I'm assuming Scrooseloose was the infamous 'giant, heavyset miner' seen escorting you out of the bar last night?" The field medic went tense. "Don't be ashamed." Extorque chuckled. "The first time I drank that liquid fire I swear it almost burned a hole in my vocalizer."

Ambulon massaged his temples, shuttering his optics. "Let's just... forget that ever happened, hmm?" He cracked one yellow eye. "By the way - interesting, that Effleurage and his gang."

"They're good people," Extorque said. "You didn't get a massage from one of them, I take it? Too bad." He sat back. "You need one."

Ambulon chortled. "Is that some indirect way of telling me I look like scrap?"

"Ehh."

Ambulon laughed, and so did Extorque. It felt completely different from his first few weeks working in the mines, when Extorque was cold and avoidant. Ambulon was quite thankful things changed for the good. He wished other things would, but... One thing at a time.

"Sounds like you two are having fun."

Fissure chuckled as he walked inside, sliding the door closed behind him. Ambulon looked to Extorque and nodded. "I better start my shift then," he said, and stood. He walked past Fissure, the old mech making his way to his desk.

"See you later, then."

Ambulon packed up a medkit and headed out. Extorque turned to the window, watched him transform and drive off.

"That kid... He's got some brass bearings on him."

Extorque slowly looked to Fissure. The CMO was starting up his console. "He's just concerned about the miners' well being," Extorque mumbled, frowning, "that's all."

"Well," Fissure chortled. "That's all fine and good." He glanced to his colleague, and there was a darkness in his gaze. "But for his sake, I hope he remembers his place."

"I spoke to him, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Fissure reassured. He sighed and sat back. "It's good to see you two are finally getting along. But..." He winked at the golden medic. "Try not to let him rub off on you too much. Lest you forgot your place as well."

Extorque stared at his boss for a moment before lowering his gaze. "Right," he said, and turned back to his console, fingers clenching into fists.

\---

Ambulon spent most of the morning cruising through the mines without interruption. It was a nice change from yesterday.

Half into his morning shift, he made his way to S5.25. He wanted to see how Kickspeed was holding up. Ambulon was still upset they were forcing the kid another two months in the mines, but at least he was with old friends again. When he arrived, everything appeared normal, just as before. Zel and Zing were laughing and chattering as they worked, Kickspeed between them. However, Ambulon noticed the young mech was rather quiet, and his face seemed... blank. As if he were running on auto-pilot.

Ambulon wanted to drive down the hill, speak with Kickspeed and the others, but a notification on his commlink forced him away. Kickspeed was due for a check-up later that evening, anyway; he'd see how the mech was doing then. Ambulon transformed and took off, clear across sector five, toward the edges of sector six.

A miner was waiting for him, sitting against the rocks, clutching his hand. He'd about nearly torn off his middle finger by accident. Fortunately, it was an easy repair. Ambulon quickly cleaned the wound, set the digit back into place. Gave the standard medical warnings and orders before the miner returned to work.

Upon realizing his location, Ambulon braked on his current route, and turned around. Took him five minutes before he arrived. He transformed mid-drive, moving from wheels onto feet now, making his way toward the giant mech bent over rock, vibrating from the force of the drill in his hand.

Ambulon waited a moment before calmly approaching the miner. Gentle pressure to the shoulder - a light squeeze - and the giant calmly switched off his drill and turned. Scrooseloose blinked and looked down at the medic. A huge smile split across his face a second later. "Ambulon!" he cheered, and instantly swept the smaller mech into a great bear hug.

Ambulon grunted something, and Scrooseloose winced. "Oh. Sorry." He gently sat the medic back down. "I keep forgettin' not everyone likes that," he tittered, idly scratching his cheek.

The medic swished a hand at him. "It's no problem," he chuckled, rolling his clinched shoulder. "I guess it's just weird; you're about the only openly affectionate mech I've met around here."

Scrooseloose blinked. "Is that a good thing?"

"Sure," Ambulon replied. "I may not be very open, but... I can appreciate it." He smiled, lightly.

Scrooseloose beamed again. "'M'glad. I keep thinkin' yer gonna yell at me an' tell me t'knock it off." He looked around. "So, what brings ya down to my place?"

"I was in the area," Ambulon replied. "And I..." He looked aside, rubbing his arm. "Wanted to... apologize again. For the other night. I know you had your spark set on--"

"I had fun, doc," Scrooseloose interjected, purring. His optics glowed. "Don't need to apologize for nothin'."

Ambulon smirked. "Even though I fell into stasis while you were visiting..."

"Eh. I dinnit wanna wake you. You needed the rest," Scrooseloose reassured. "Besides, y'got up a few groons later anyway."

"Still surprised you were there," Ambulon snorted. "I thought I passed out in the bar, for a moment."

Scrooseloose laughed. "Now that woulda been embarrassin'," he said. He tilted his head, curious. "Did yer shower help any?"

Ambulon bobbed his head. "That and plenty of plain energon," he said. He tapped his right temple. "Extorque fixed me something to help get rid of the hang-over. Though it tasted like the Pit warmed over."

"That's good. Did ya tell him I said thanks fer the logs?"

"Yes. He also offered to loan you more in the future, should you find the ones you have now at all interesting."

Scrooseloose beamed. "I do, I do!" He was on the verge of clapping. "I read 'bout half of one of the logs the other night! While you was rechargin'!"

Ambulon's brows climbed. "Really? All ready?"

Scrooseloose rubbed the back of his head. "I know I should try an' savor 'em and read 'em little by little, but I just got so excited." He bent forward. "It was a big collection on all sorts of weird an' crazy viruses, y'know? I dinnit even know most of 'em existed! The ole backstrut got some chills readin' 'bout what some of them can do to a mech!" He shuddered. "Makes me glad we got you medics around."

"Keeping yourself healthy and fit is usually a good way to avoid a handful of those viruses," Ambulon explained.

Scrooseloose nodded. "Right."

Ambulon glanced around the area. Couldn't spot another soul for at least a half-mile. "Still kind of annoyed you're stationed here all by yourself," he grumbled, folding his arms.

"Nah, it's okay," Scrooseloose replied, shrugging. "There's a guy who comes by every once an' a while. An officer, too. Just to make sure everythin's okay an' I'm not slackin' off."

"How are things, by the way?"

"Great!" Scrooseloose said. "No complaints." He looked to the hole he had been drilling. "Think this place is dryin' out on me, though. I told the squad commander that, an' he said he'd speak to Sharpshift about it."

Ambulon blinked. "Wait - You mean, the energon's running low here?"

"Sort of."

"If that's so, then you'll be reassigned elsewhere, right?"

Scrooseloose shrugged again. "Maybe."

"This is a good thing," Ambulon insisted. "It means you'll be placed somewhere safer."

"Ain't really no safe place in the mines, doc."

Ambulon snorted. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Scrooseloose replied. He sighed. "But I'd miss it, anyway. 'Cause I'm so used to workin' here. By myself an' all. They'd probably put me with a group." He frowned. "I don't mind workin' in a group, but, well... You know. 'M'not very good at socializin'. An' most of the mechs here don't think too highly of me."

"I don't see why not."

"I guess 'cause I don't really fit in with mosta the groups here," Scrooseloose suggested.

"You mean, you're not a Purist or an insane criminal?" Ambulon grumbled.

Scrooseloose blinked. "You know about--?"

"Let me guess," Ambulon sighed, arms akimbo, "the Purists approached you, asking you to join their group. You said no. Now you've been shunned by them. And since you're not a criminal, RiffRaff's gang won't take you in."

Scrooseloose stared. "... Yeah," he said, blinked, "how'd you know? It was only recently, too."

"Recently? I was told the Purists have been around since the mines first opened. Why would they only ask you _now_?"

"I dunno," Scrooseloose replied. "But they've been recruitin'. So has RiffRaff's gang." He shivered. "I think they plan on startin' a big fight or somethin'. I dunno. I never really paid much attention to that stuff. It's scary an' I don't like fightin', y'know."

"Well, _I_ don't like the sound of this," Ambulon grumbled, squinting.

"If somethin' does go down, then Sharpshift'll stop it."

Ambulon almost burst out laughing. "Yeah," he snorted, "but I think someone should speak to Armorshield."

"But that ain't his business, right?"

"That's what Sharpshift thinks," Ambulon said. "But it _is_ Armorshield's business. I don't care what Sharpshift says." He pointed to the miner. "Armorshield should know what goes on underground. It's in his right to know, too. But no one's saying anything because Sharpshift forbids it. Doesn't want the warden involved." He scowled. "To be honest with you, if something does happen between the Purists and RiffRaff's gang, Sharpshift's going to need all the help he can get."

"There's a lotta mechs involved with both groups, I know that." 

" _That_ and by withholding information from Armorshield that could have possibly put a stop to all this before it reached a climax, could very easily cost Sharpshift his job." Ambulon sneered. "I'll be honest with you: I wouldn't be sad to see him go."

Scrooseloose chuckled. "Y'really don't like Sharpshift, do ya?"

"With the way he's been handling certain cases, I'm beginning to question his--"

Ambulon choked on his words, a sudden jolt nearly knocking him off his feet. He looked up, wide eyed. The ground was shaking. "Is this a--?"

Scrooseloose quickly reached over and took him by the arm. "Standard!" the miner laughed as the ground continued to quake, bits of rubble and debris falling from the walls and ceiling. "S'normal," he assured, keeping one large arm wrapped around the medic's waist. "It'll stop in about a klik!"

Ambulon swallowed. "I don't know how you can stand this," he said, body vibrating.

Scrooseloose laughed, some of his plating rattling. "I'm used to it." He noticed the smaller mech studying the ceiling, worried. "Hey," he said, suddenly, and pulled Ambulon a little closer, "finish what you were sayin'. 'Bout Sharpshift an' stuff!"

Ambulon blinked. Calm conversation during an earthquake? Not like Scrooseloose could leave his post. The miner seemed just fine as the ground rocked beneath and around them. Ambulon swallowed and looked up into Scrooseloose's smiling face. "I just," he said, and hesitated, "I just don't think he's doing a goob job!"

"So you gonna go tell Armorshield?"

Ambulon frowned. "Maybe," he said. "I'd rather not!"

"Don't blame ya!" Scrooseloose chuckled. "Armorshield ain't the most warmest of mechs!"

Ambulon winced as another shock sent him reeling. He braced his hands to the miner's side, balancing himself. "I just hope the fight between the Purists and RiffRaff's gang never comes to a head!" he exclaimed, constantly eyeing his shaking surroundings. "It means trouble for everyone! Even those not directly involved!"

"Heya, doc."

Ambulon glanced up at the miner. He wasn't smiling anymore. "What is it?" Ambulon asked, spark skipping a pulse.

Scrooseloose stared at the roof. "... The quake shoulda been over with by now. 'Stead it's gettin' worse," he said. He looked down at the confused medic. "... This ain't normal."

"... What?"

It sounded like a thunderclap above their heads, ripping through the ceiling. Ambulon gasped. Like lightning, thick, ugly cracks broke through the surrounding rocks. The ground suddenly yawned open with a growl, splitting just behind them. Debris poured down in waves from above, from small pebbles to huge chunks of rock.

"Scrap!" Ambulon cursed, throwing up his hands. "We gotta get out of here!" He tugged at Scrooseloose's arm. "Come on! Move!"

The miner quickly recovered from his shock, and alongside the medic, took off. The shaking turned violent, and a sudden hard thump threw them apart. Ambulon hit the ground, rolling down a large rut. Scrooseloose's weight kept him anchored, but the ground began to crumble beneath him. He managed to push himself aside, before the dent beneath him turned into a sink hole.

"Scrooseloose!"

Scrooseloose glanced back, scared. Ambulon swayed and fell against him. He wrapped both arms around the miner's arm, helping him back up with great effort. Once again on his feet, Scrooseloose suddenly took charge; he yanked the medic along with him, keeping a tight grip on his hand.

Ambulon was screaming into his commlink over the roaring, crumbling earth. "Backup! Backup! We need backup!" he shouted, wincing as he narrowly missed a thick rock to the head.

The quake was at their heels, following them. Crags burst from the ground. Ambulon heard Scrooseloose's terrified gasp before the loud cry for help. When he looked up, dust in his optics, he saw a miner squashed beneath a boulder. An officer was trying to push it off, but to no avail. Another hard quake, and the officer fell over, tripping into a pit. He grabbed the edges, and found himself dangling; one quick look down, he saw nothing but a seemingly endless darkness.

"Get the boulder!" Ambulon shouted, pushing himself away from Scrooseloose. The miner quickly ran to his trapped comrade, began to heave and push at the boulder. At least it started to budge. Ambulon tripped over to the officer, grabbing his hands. "Hold on hold on hold on!"

"Help me!" the officer sobbed. "I can't-- I can't hold--!" He shrieked as one hand slipped, and Ambulon was half-pulled down with him.

The medic grit his denta. "Give me your hand!" he ordered, holding out his free hand. The officer was paralyzed with fear, simply staring blankly back, unresponsive. Cursing, Ambulon reached down, a joint popping in his arm before he managed to grab the officer's second forearm. The ground continued splitting, spitting rocks from above. Ambulon switched off his optics, engines roaring fiercely, as he pulled with all his might.

Survival instincts kicked in then. The officer's optics brightened, and he quickly grabbed onto Ambulon. He shoved the heel of one foot into the side of the deep pitch, gave himself a boost up. With another hard pull, Ambulon fell over on his back, the officer on top of him.

After a moment of composing themselves, Ambulon shoved at the officer's chest, pushing him to a sit. "Are you wounded!?" he shouted over the crumbling mines.

The officer shook his head, speechless.

Ambulon swiveled his head back. Scrooseloose was still pushing at the boulder. He'd nearly gotten the trapped, now-unconscious miner free. The medic glanced back to the officer, pointed to Scrooseloose. "Help him!" he ordered.

The officer said nothing. Stood, swayed, cycled dirt and hot air. He ran over to the boulder, threw his weight hard against it. It budged by an inch, wheezing out a gush of dust. Ambulon climbed onto his knees, and looked back. From the distance, he could see a number of security vehicles heading their way fast.

Scrooseloose stumbled from the boulder, vents heaving with a wretched grinding noise. Ambulon ran over to him, nearly stumbling. He stood before the heavy set miner, taking his arms. "Scrooseloose! Scroo!" He slapped his limbs. "Are you all right!?"

Scrooseloose swallowed. "Jus'-- Jus' needa--"

Behind them, the ceiling collapsed with a loud rumbling cry. Ambulon looked up; the roof above their heads began to cave. "We need to move!" he shouted, yanking at the miner's arms.

"What about him!?" Scrooseloose nodded to the trapped miner.

Ambulon chewed his bottom lip. "We..." He frowned, his spark twisting painfully. "We need to leave... You--You and the officer, you need to--"

The sound was an ugly, squelching noise mixed with grinding steel, punctured metal, and a wet slapping noise. Ambulon vaguely registered the last bit. He looked down, yellow optics flaring. Fresh energon painted his torso and legs, just slightly nicking his chin. His frightened gaze moved to the thick edge of rock just barely scraping his chest, painted with the purple liquid.

Finally, Ambulon looked to Scrooseloose. The miner was eerily quiet, optics wide, jaw slack. Both stared at the debris impaled clean through Scrooseloose's abdomen. Their optics met again, and for the first time in what felt like eternity but was really only ten simple seconds, Scrooseloose made a noise, only to choke and spit up energon, spotting Ambulon's dirtied face.

"D... Doc..."

"Ambulon!"

Extorque transformed alongside fifteen officers. Ten of them quickly ran to help their comrade shove the boulder off the miner. Extorque darted over to Ambulon, coming to a crashing halt at the sight of the rock thrust through Scrooseloose. " _Scrap_ ," he breathed, horrified and wide eyed.

Ambulon and Scrooseloose said nothing, didn't move. Extorque quickly shook the field medic by the shoulder, ripping him from his stupor. "Transform!" Extorque ordered, and Ambulon looked at him, surprised. Scrooseloose stumbled back, staring in terror at the debris still inside of him. "Get him to the medbay! _Now_!" the golden medic shrieked right into Ambulon's audiol, and ground collapsed some feet beside them.

Ambulon instantly ran on auto-pilot, consumed with both fear and determination. He nodded and stepped back. Ambulon transformed, switching on his electromagnetic field. Extorque reached over, helped Scrooseloose onto his back. With another jolt, the miner practically fell onto Ambulon, and the field medic groaned with pain.

"Go!"

Straps locked Scrooseloose down securely, and Ambulon's wheels screeched violently as he ripped down the trembling road. He pushed himself past his own speed limit, and his surroundings began to blur, beams of yellow light guiding him down the long tunnels, back toward the medbay.

 _Come on come on!_ Ambulon's spark was about to beat right out his chassis. Tires seared into the ground as he took a sharp turn, moving out into open space. More officers quickly drove aside before the medic could crash into them. He didn't bother to apologize, just pushed down the accelerator. His engine began to whine as it reached its limits, but he refused to slow. Even as pain shot through his circuitry, Ambulon forced himself to go faster.

_You're going to make it just hang in there let your defense matrix take care of your injuries switch onto auto-pilot should redirect the flow of energon keep you from losing more we're almost there just hold on!_

Scrooseloose was quiet. They were safe now, the earthquake far away, but Ambulon could still hear the rumbling in his audios, feel the ground tremble beneath his wheels.

Ambulon made it back to the medbay in less than half the time it usually took. Sharpshift, Fissure, and a number of officers were waiting outside. Ambulon's brakes screamed; his chassis was thrown forward, and rubber burned before he finally came to a halt. Once at a full stop, help ran over, quickly removing Scrooseloose from his back and rushing him into the medbay.

Ambulon transformed, stumbled and fell to his knees.

"Ambulon!" Trisil cried, taking the medic by his arms. "Are you--"

"Scroo," Ambulon heaved. He ached all over; the pain was immense, and his vision started to double. Nonetheless, he pushed against Trisil, nearly knocking the officer over. On his feet, he ran, practically throwing himself into the medbay. Fissure and two others were bent over Scrooseloose bleeding all over a medical berth, quickly removing some of the debris.

Ambulon scrambled over to the berth. "What can I do what can I do?" he asked, forcing out the words. He reached for a medical instrument - anything, anything would do, he _had_ to help - but his hand quivered, and the tool fell with a clatter to the ground. His weary optics looked to Scrooseloose's face. "What can--"

"Get him out of here!"

Ambulon weakly shoved an officer away. "Need to stop--stop bleeding out--" He reached for the debris in Scrooseloose's abdomen before a pair of hands took his arms. He was yanked away from the berth, out of the way. When he looked up, Sharpshift was glowering at him. "Need to help--I need to help him--!"

"Sit down!" Sharpshift snapped, pushing him into his desk seat. "Backup from the hospital is en route!"

Extorque suddenly appeared at the door, covered in grime and energon. "Fissure!" he cried, and the CMO looked back at him, surprised. "Need your expertise here!"

Fissure cursed. "Take over!" he ordered, shouldering past his colleague. Sharpshift followed.

Ambulon shook his head. He drew back to his feet, watched Extorque work on Scrooseloose. "We need to do an emergency transfusion!" he shouted, rubbing dirt from his face. "Let go!" he snarled at an officer taking his arm, wrenched it free.

"Ambulon, sit--"

"I'm _fine_!" Ambulon threw himself over Scrooseloose, glared at Extorque. "Emergency transfusion! Come on!"

Extorque frowned. He snapped at an officer, who stopped staring and ran to get the spare energon. "Seventy-six percent energon loss," he said, trying to keep calm. "Reserves have taken over. Near empty." He watched as Ambulon's hands shook trying to seal up loose edges along the incomplete tourniquet. His spark twisted with sudden sadness. "Ambulon..."

" _Where is the energon_!?"

The officer returned, shoving over the transfusion machine, stacked with thick bags of energon. Ambulon glowered. "Is that all?" he demanded. "That isn't-- That won't be enough!"

"It's nearly half of our emergency reserve," Extorque explained.

"Half!? Where's the rest!?"

"We're only allowed to use half the reserve. Just enough to keep him from falling into--"

"Frag!" Ambulon cursed. "What sort of stupid--" He snarled as he grabbed at his pounding head, doubling back.

Extorque reached for him. "Ambulon, you need--"

Ambulon ignored his concerned colleague, ran to the door. He couldn't see Fissure or Sharpshift - fine by him. He looked to the remaining officers and miners. "You! All of you!" he snapped, receiving everyone's attention. One optic powered off as the throbbing increased in the right side of his head. "Emergency transfusion! Need--need at least five of you! I don't care who _get in here_!"

Immediately, three miners and an officer ran forward. The rest looked among themselves, nervous, debating. Ambulon growled. "Don't make me choose!" he threatened. "Two more _come on_!"

With a push, another miner ran forward, and with much reluctance, an officer joined him. Ambulon herded them into the medbay. He ran over to Extorque, feeding energon into Scrooseloose's unconscious body. "Donors!" he yelled. "Can you fraggin' take donors, or does that go against your--"

"I used up the entire reserve," Extorque said. He looked Ambulon firmly in the optics, and the field medic was mildly surprised. "There's nothing left, but we still need more. Three donors should do."

Ambulon hesitated a moment. He nodded, and gestured over the largest three of the group. He helped an officer quickly hook them up, readying for transfusion.

"Stand back!"

Everyone jumped, just as medics from the hospital rushed into the medbay. They were all shoved aside as Scrooseloose was quickly hefted from the berth and outside. Ambulon managed to wriggle free and follow. When he looked up, the medics had loaded the miner onto a stretcher in the emergency elevator.

"Wait!" Ambulon cried. He made way to join them, but a medic turned, holding out a hand.

"Stay here!"

"I'm going with him!" Ambulon snarled, slapping away the hand. The medic pushed back, and then two officers were restraining Ambulon. "Let me go I'm going with Scrooseloose!"

The medic snorted and went to join his companions in the elevator. Ambulon ground his denta, spark thrashing in his chamber. He swung back a leg, kicking an officer. His hands loosened, enough for Ambulon to yank one arm free and slug the second officer's face. Once he was let go, Ambulon ran, just as the elevator doors were about to close.

Ambulon threw in his arm, screamed as the doors closed on it. A medic went to open the doors, but the damage was done. The arm fell off with a wrench, hitting the ground inside the elevator. The doors opened, and Ambulon stumbled inside, energon gushing from the gaping hole at his elbow and onto another medic.

Ambulon looked up at the medic who had tried to stop him, glaring furiously. He smiled very weakly. "Seems I'm... your p-patient now, t-too," he rasped, managing a dry chuckle. He turned to look at Scrooseloose lying beside him. His optics powered off; auto-pilot took over, and the last thing he heard before passing out was the chief medic angrily yelling at his staff to lie him down.

\---

Nearly half of sector six had collapsed, sealing up numerous tunnels. Help from the Tarnian Law Enforcement as well as the army was rushed into the mines. They went about digging out miners trapped in some of the closed off areas. In the end, there were twenty-three seriously injured with three causalities. Most of the wounded were taken to the hospital, while a few - those not in dire medical need - were treated by Fissure and Extorque above ground.

Miners were evacuated, examined, and then divided into groups - those to return to their quarters, and those to be interrogated. Tune Out helped herd the first group to their rooms, as Trisil spoke with a few soldiers. Zel and Zing stopped on their way inside to comfort Kickspeed, who suddenly collapsed, vomiting. They helped him to his feet, and off to his quarters. More officers had been dispatched to keep out the buzzing news groups and reporters attempting to squeeze in and get a story.

"That was an incredibly _stupid_ thing you did."

Ambulon's optics powered online, adjusting to the ghost light above him. As his vision cleared, he could see Sharpshift practically glaring knives into his skull. Ambulon took a moment to just... cycle air through his sore, but numb chassis.

"Am I...?"

"Alive? Yes," Sharpshift growled. "You're in the hospital." He bristled. "Fortunately, the medics were able to save and reattach your arm after that moronic fraggin' stunt of yours you pulled."

Ambulon swallowed, dryly. "Where is... Scroo..."

Sharpshift scowled. "The miner? He's unconscious, but his condition is stable," he said, and the small smile on the medic's face only made him angrier. "You fraggin' _idiot_." He wished he could punch Ambulon, but refrained. "You knew the rules. You are not allowed to use more than half of the emergency energon reserve per patient."

Ambulon frowned. "Stupid... rule..."

"One we've been following for cycles now!"

"He--"

"You're lucky no one needed a transfusion," Sharpshift interrupted with a snap. "We would have been scrapped."

Ambulon squinted. "I made... the right call..."

"Did you? Right now you're so pumped up on neuro-stabilizers, you probably can't tell left from right."

"Donors... You could have used--"

Sharpshift raised a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Enough. I've heard enough," he growled. Ambulon switched off his optics. "I have to report to Armorshield now that you're back online." His EM field was radiating with fury. "Right after he fraggin' chewed out my audiols. How embarrassing, in front of all those officers..."

"Reprimand me... later..." Ambulon mumbled. "Neuro-stabilizers... hard to tell... left from right."

Sharpshift's fists shook at his sides. "I hope you're proud," he hissed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and swiftly left the room.

\---

When Ambulon next switched on his optics, it was to a much friendlier face.

Albeit a slightly annoyed one.

"Gonna tell me what... I did was... stupid?"

Extorque snorted. He stood, and quickly gathered a small glass from the nearby table. Ambulon watched as he helped sit him up; he still couldn't feel much of his body. Extorque cursed as he went to take the glass; he lowered his hand, and allowed Extorque to tilt his head back, pour a little energon into his mouth. After a few swallows, the golden medic laid Ambulon back and sat down.

"Let me just say," Extorque cycled, "you're lucky you're alive."

Ambulon smirked, but then he remembered-- "Scroo... Is he... okay?"

Extorque frowned. "They say your arm won't function properly for another meta-cycle," he replied instead. Ambulon slowly turned his head, looked down. His arm had been reattached to the elbow, welded with new, unpainted steel. "So you're not going to be very useful in the medbay for a bit."

"Had to."

"No, you didn't," Extorque scowled. "You should have--"

"What?" Ambulon rasped, annoyed. "Should have stayed? Been... useless? You and Fissure - you weren't... you weren't going to let me do anything..."

"Because you were injured," Extorque hissed. "You were in no state to treat anyone." He shook his head. "Your sheer determination kept you online. You should have passed out the moment you arrived at the medbay with Scrooseloose."

Ambulon frowned. "... Weren't..."

"Weren't what?"

"Suppose... Use all the reserve..."

Extorque slowly looked down. "Well, I did," he said, firmly. "And it cost me. Nice big mark on my record."

"You had to..."

Extorque was quiet. He looked back up. "He would have died... if I hadn't," he mumbled.

"Yes..." Ambulon breathed. "You did... the right thing."

"Not according to Sharpshift and Fissure."

Ambulon scowled. "They only care... care about themselves. The miners... They don't care about any of--of them."

"That's not true."

"It is," Ambulon said, sternly, and Extorque flinched, "and you _know it_." He sighed and laid his head back. "Didn't want to take risk... Don't care..."

"Stop thinking about that, all right?"

"How is... Scroo?"

"He's alive," Extorque replied, and Ambulon's optics brightened a little, "but just focus on yourself right now. You're in boiling acid, Ambulon. The only reason you haven't been tossed from the mines is because we need the help. Won't be able to get in a new medic for a while."

Ambulon sneered. "So... Haven't been fired..."

"No, but you're getting there. Talking about a transfer, Ambulon. Not some nice city clinic, either."

"Miner medic," Ambulon rasped, "don't belong... in city, anyway."

Extorque scowled. "They're going to release you tomorrow," he said. "But you won't be returning to work for another three orns."

"Is... How is..."

"Everyone else?" Extorque sighed. "We lost three mechs. Two miners, one officer. The miner stuck under the boulder that you, Scrooseloose, and another officer tried to free survived, but is catatonic." Ambulon smiled - that was good, at least. "Twenty-three injured. Ten of them receiving treatment here. Five put on bed rest. The others all sent back to work the day after."

"Those three..."

"Not anyone you know. Not personally, that is."

Still, Ambulon felt regret. "I would have--would have helped--"

"Forget it," Extorque sighed. "It's in the past now. You couldn't have done anything, anyway."

"If in my... my place, would you have... done things differently?"

Extorque was surprised by the question. He stared at Ambulon, who kept his gaze locked in place. "When..." Ambulon swallowed. "When Tightclinch was... was dying, you--"

"That isn't open for discussion," Extorque pressed, his voice cold. Ambulon stayed quiet. "Tomorrow you're discharged, and--"

"Sir?"

Both Extorque and Ambulon looked up as a nurse peeked into the room. 

"Yes?" Extorque replied.

"You wanted us to notify you when the patient came back online." The nurse nodded. "He woke from his coma ten kliks ago. He's speaking clearly and is responsive to outside stimuli, but a few of his programs are still offline."

Ambulon blinked, tiredly. "Who is the patient?"

Extorque raised a hand to the nurse about to answer. "Never you mind," he said to Ambulon.

"Who is--"

"Let's talk outside," Extorque said to the nurse. He gathered to his feet, looked to Ambulon. "The patient needs to rest." Ambulon glared back. He turned and left with the nurse, shutting the door behind him.

\---

Later that night, the nurse returned, carrying a bouquet of crystal flowers.

He opened Ambulon's door a crack, peered inside. Ambulon's head was turned aside, optics offline, vitals indicating a state of recharge. The nurse entered, as quietly as possible, making his way to the patient's bedside. He sat the glowing flowers down on the table, before quickly running another scan on Ambulon. Made sure everything was in order.

"Who sent those?"

The nurse blinked and looked down. Ambulon's head was still turned away.

"A couple miners. Said they went by... Zel, Zing, and... Kicker?"

Ambulon rolled his head back, looked from the flowers to the nurse. "When...?"

"They arrived about a half-groon ago," the nurse explained. "The one named Zing insisted I tell you they all apparently split their credit rations to buy you these." He touched one of the flowers. "They were shipped directly from the Crystal Gardens in Iacon, so they were, in his words, 'fraggin' arm-an'-leg expensive'."

Ambulon smirked. "Guess... I gotta pay them back..."

"You'll be seeing them tomorrow."

"I need to see Scrooseloose."

The nurse blinked. "M-36," Ambulon added, and that received a response.

"You need to rest."

"I _have_ been resting. For fraggin' orns now. I need... to see him." Ambulon frowned seriously. "He's my patient."

"Actually, he was turned over to the hospital, and then to Extorque, who says--"

" _Please_ ," Ambulon interjected, and weakly raised his hand. He could barely feel most of his fingers, and it hurt somewhat to move the repaired limb. He touched the nurse's hand on the berth's rail. Stared him sympathetically in the optics. "I need... to see him."

"..."

"He's... He's online, right?"

"... He is."

"Then... let me see him."

"Visiting--"

" _I need to see him_."

The nurse studied Ambulon's face. His EM field reached out, begging, pleading. Stressed and needing. He looked away then, to the door. Sighed. "Fine," the nurse mumbled, and Ambulon's optics widened slightly. The nurse turned to fix him with a firm stare. "But only because he's been asking for you non-stop since he came back online."

\---

After making sure the coast was clear, the nurse seated Ambulon into a wheelchair, quickly pushing him down the hall into the elevator. The ride was short, but Ambulon was anxious. If he didn't feel his legs, he would have been bouncing in his chair or at least jumping out and running to Scrooseloose's room himself.

They arrived a few minutes later. The nurse hesitated a moment, but one last look at Ambulon's pleading gaze, and he unlocked the door. Even before Ambulon could be pushed into the room--

"Doc... Is that you?"

Ambulon winced when he first laid optics on Scrooseloose. He looked so stiff on the berth; dozens of wires and cords hooked up to machines slipped beneath a thick blanket, into his torso. "Yeah," he replied a moment later, "it's me. Ambulon."

The miner laughed. "Finally! Been askin' fer ya."

"Ten kliks," the nurse mumbled, pushing the wheelchair beside Scrooseloose's berth. He left, quietly shutting the door.

"How are ya, doc?" Scrooseloose asked without turning his head.

Ambulon half-smiled. "Feel like a mine collapsed on top of me." The miner chuckled weakly. "And... how are you?"

"I guess I'm good," Scrooseloose replied. "But... The doctors... Well..."

"Well?"

"It's just..." Scrooseloose gulped, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. "My backstrut... Pretty much severed. Took out some, um... I dunno, but... I... They don't think... They don't think I'll ever be mobile again."

Ambulon widened his optics. "What?"

"Like I said, they don't know fer sure. They gotta run a few more tests, I guess," Scrooseloose explained. "But... They said there's, um... Eighty-nine percent probability I'm gonna remain paralyzed?"

Ambulon swallowed. "You can't... you can't move?"

"No. Not much. Still got control of some of the actuators in my face, yeah, but..."

"If you are to remain paralyzed, can they do nothing?" His medical knowledge had not covered fields related to full body paralysis. He wasn't sure why. "I mean, what about surgery? Transplantation? Refitting?"

Scrooseloose sighed. "Dunno, doc. Jus' as in the dark as you."

Ambulon growled, frustrated.

"I don't feel no pain, though, so that's good! You feel any pain, doc?"

"No."

The miner chortled. "Heard ya got yer arm ripped off jus' so you could come with me."

"I might have."

"Is... Is it okay? You gonna be okay? Can you... still use it? Yer arm, I mean."

"Yes," Ambulon reassured. "But it still needs time to heal. They gave a diagnosis of one meta-cycle."

"That's good then," Scrooseloose sighed, relieved. "Kinda hope I get the same good news."

"You'll... You'll be fine."

"Y'don't sound too sure, doc."

Ambulon sighed. "I'm just tired. That's all."

"Well--"

The door suddenly opened, the nurse reappearing. "Time's up," he said.

"Aww," Scrooseloose groaned, "just a few more kliks?"

"The doctor will be seeing you shortly," the nurse explained. He took the handles of Ambulon's wheelchair. "If your friend is caught here outside visitation cycle and off bed rest, it's my diode."

Scrooseloose chuckled, weakly. "Awright." His optics rolled off to the side, in Ambulon's direction. "But yer gonna come visit again, right?"

"Of course," Ambulon reassured. He slowly reached out and... gently pat the miner on his hand. The mech didn't feel it, but he sighed anyway. "Get some rest. Listen to your doctor."

"Heh. Will do, sir."

The nurse pushed Ambulon out of the room, back to his own quarters. He looked at his hands in his lap, the welded patches around his elbow. He frowned and switched off his optics, listening to the hum of the wheels along cold tile.

\---

Early morning the next day, Extorque and two officers arrived to pick Ambulon up.

Ambulon remained relatively quiet on his trip back to the mines. Extorque watched over him closely; every time he caught him staring, the golden medic would quickly look away. About a half hour later, with some help and doctor's orders, Ambulon found himself back in his old room. He stretched out on his berth; not nearly as comfortable as the hospital bed, but he'd get used to it again.

For a while, Ambulon laid there, staring, studying the ceiling. Tracing images out of the cracks and markings. He listened to the world outside his door; a few officers or miners would cross by every few minutes or so. It was quiet, with everyone on duty or underground. An officer would come by once an hour to check up on him. He left him a cube of energon, but Ambulon didn't touch it. Wasn't very hungry.

He thought about Scrooseloose. If indeed he would remain paralyzed. Surely there was a way to undo the damage? Extorque wasn't very talkative about his case, and Ambulon knew it was partially because he didn't know, either. Tests still had to be run. Figured they'd all find out in another day or two. Still... If Scrooseloose was to remain paralyzed with no chance of recovery...

Ambulon scrubbed his face with his hands. His mind was going into dark places. He'd all ready seen enough tragedy the past few days. Though it only made him think about the three causalities Extorque mentioned. How did they die? Could he have saved them? What if they needed energon from the emergency reserve, but because they used it all on Scrooseloose... No. Sharpshift confessed that hadn't been a problem. Ambulon knew he wasn't really concerned about the miners; didn't know _why_ exactly, in regards to this specific case, but he just... knew.

What were their names? Did they have names outside numbers? Did they have friends? Had Ambulon treated them in the past?

Ambulon grunted and rolled onto his side, optics powering off. If only he could _do_ something. But doctor's orders: nothing but bed rest the next three orns. He didn't know why. He felt relatively fine, and even though his arm was still a bit glitchy, he could go back to work. Though Ambulon imagined this three-day period also gave Sharpshift time to breathe. Probably didn't want to see hide nor hair of the field medic for a while.

Extorque had brought in datalogs. A variety for Ambulon to read. Nothing interesting or stimulating. Meant to keep him distracted. He tried reading a couple, but ended up throwing them on the floor and rolling onto his side again.

Ambulon stared at the bouquet of crystal roses Zel, Zing, and Kickspeed had bought him, sitting on the nearby desk. They glowed, even in the dim light of the small room. He reached out, fingers brushing along one of the thick petals. Flowers didn't grow out here in the mines; there were a few annoying rag weeds, but nothing as beautiful as these. He imagined the Crystal Garden, filled to the brim with these roses and many more exotic, beautiful flowers and plants. The beauty must be indescribable; breathtaking, probably.

Around noon, the door opened. Ambulon rolled his head back, expecting to find an officer or Extorque. Instead, he was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of relaxation and warmth. He instantly knew it was Effleurage even before looking up to confirm.

"Hello, Ambulon," Effleurage said, smiling. He stepped inside, shutting the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've come upon request," Effleurage replied. He gestured to the bed. "Do you mind?" Ambulon shook his head. He scooted aside, and the teal 'bot sat beside him. He looked to his repaired arm, and the medic offered it for his examination.

"Extorque send you?"

"Yes," Effleurage replied. His fingers were so soft as they skimmed up and down the length of his arm, scanning, calculating. "I only recently heard what happened." He frowned, sincerely upset. "You all have my condolences. I was told three brave mechs lost their lives in the tragedy. May they be soaring with Primus in the stars now."

Ambulon smiled, crookedly. Not one for religion, but... Well, he had no reason or right to knock Effleurage's beliefs. "I hope so, too, if that is the case."

"But you saved the life of the one they call Scrooseloose," Effleurage said, smiling kindly again. He started kneading up Ambulon's forearm, back down, repeating the process. "You are a hero, as are many of your comrades."

"I'd do better back in the field instead of lying here."

"You need the rest. I know you have heard that countless times the past few orns, but it is true." Effleurage smoothed a thumb along the top of Ambulon's forearm; up, down, up, down, then returned to working small circles into its sides. "The spirit of a hero is invincible, but the body is not."

"Very inconvenient."

The masseuse smirked. "I agree." He pressed fingers into the wrist, along its sides, up to the palm heel, then back down. "All I can do is try to keep the pieces together." He twisted the hand side to side, thumb and forefinger kneading along the edges.

"We're not so different then," Ambulon chortled.

"No. I suppose not." Piercing the edge of his thumb into the top of Ambulon's hand, Effleurage began to drag it up the length of his arm. Applying just enough pressure; vibrations emitted from the digit worked beneath and into dermal plating, and Ambulon found himself both relaxed and a little uncomfortable. "Don't worry." The vibrations picked up, and the field medic sagged back against the berth. "Knots, as to be expected."

"The fact I'm feeling anything is good," Ambulon said. "But only my thumb and index servo seem to be functioning properly. The rest are numb or a little too weak for me to move."

"I'll get to those," Effleurage hummed, and once more Ambulon found himself relaxed by the massage therapist's overpowering energy.

The door opened a moment later, and Ambulon looked up. A face peeked inside, and while familiar, Ambulon couldn't recall a name. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, meekly.

"No," Ambulon reassured. "Come in. Did you need something?"

The mech stepped inside. A security officer, but not the one making rounds to his room that day. "Um..." The green-eyed officer rubbed the back of his head, standing slumped by Ambulon's berth. "Um... Well, I... um."

"I recognize you," Ambulon said, squinting, "but I don't... I don't quite recall your designation."

"It's Maceforce, sir," the officer replied, swallowing. He smiled weakly. "You... We never met. Not until the uh... The quake." He looked at his fingers tapping nervously together. "You... You saved my life." He looked up, again, his optics glowing a little brighter. "I almost fell into that pit, but you pulled me out."

Ambulon blinked. "You-- You were the officer trying to push the boulder off the trapped miner?"

Maceforce nodded. "Yes," he replied. His smile faded. "Unfortunately, um... M-33 didn't make it."

"What?" Ambulon widened his optics. "Extorque told me he survived, but was comatose."

Maceforce flinched. "Oh, uh, did--did he? Um." He cursed under his breath.

"He was lying, then?"

"I... _Scrap_."

Ambulon sighed and laid his head back. "It's all right," he reassured, and Effleurage was kneading between his digits now. "I understand why he did what he did."

"You--you do?"

"How did M-33 die?"

Maceforce sighed. "Complete system failure. All programs shut down. Most of his--his equipment crushed beyond repair." He paused. "He died shortly after we got him out."

"I had... I had a feeling he wasn't going to make it," Ambulon mumbled. He closed his optics. "I was going to tell Scrooseloose to evacuate with you, leave M-33 behind. I'd join as soon as I knew for sure that he..."

"Don't blame yourself," Effleurage said, suddenly, pushing warm vibrations into the medic's hand. "You did the right thing."

"Had I done it sooner, though, maybe--"

"Don't think like that," Maceforce interrupted. He winced. "S-Sir." Looking up again, he continued, "We're all... We're all very thankful for what you did. A lot of the miners... They told me to give you their gratitude. For... For savin' M... Er, Scrooseloose." He tittered. "The miners don't think very kindly of Fissure or Extorque, so they were a little surprised you'd go... go so far out of the way..."

"I'm a doctor," Ambulon said, firmly, "it's my job." He sighed. "Sometimes I'm forced to make difficult decisions. Some which others may not agree with." He remembered how angry Sharpshift was when he visited him at the hospital. "But I... did what was expected of me. What I _had_ to do."

Effleurage replied, "Agreed."

"How is Scrooseloose?"

Ambulon frowned. "Backstrut was severed. I'm not sure on all the details, but he's suffering from full-body paralysis. At least for now."

Maceforce winced. "Can they do anything?"

"I certainly hope so. But they haven't made it an official diagnosis."

"T-That's good. There's still hope then," Maceforce said, smiling. "Will you tell him I said hello, and hope he gets to feeling better soon?"

Ambulon nodded once. "Will do."

Maceforce went to leave, stopped half-way. "Oh. Um." He turned back around, meeting Ambulon's gaze. "And... If there's anything I can do for you... Anything at all... Please don't hesitate to ask, okay?" he offered, humbly.

"You don't need to repay me."

"I owe you my life," Maceforce said, hand to his spark, "I really don't mind." He smiled lopsidedly. "Seriously. If there's anything you want or need, I'm your mech. Call on me anytime."

Ambulon sighed. "Sure," he said. He groaned as Effleurage rolled his pinkie between fingers. Slight sensation returned to the digit. "I think it's working."

Maceforce left a few seconds later. Effleurage looked up at the medic, still massaging his hand and wrist. "I'll be stopping by the next few orns," he explained. "Until your sensors are fully activated again."

"You don't need to."

"Maybe. But if it helps speed the process along, I doubt you mind."

"Well... True."

Effleurage chuckled and gently laid his arm back onto the berth. "Will you be able to see your friend tomorrow?" he inquired.

"I hope so," Ambulon replied. He flexed his servos; still a little difficult.

The masseuse stood, brushing hands off on his sides. "Then I will see you tomorrow. Extorque will notify me when you return, if you do visit Scrooseloose," he said.

"Right." Ambulon furrowed his optic ridges. "How much is this treatment going to cost me?"

Effleurage laughed. "No need to repay me, doctor," he assured, swishing a hand. "Consider this a gift for your bravery." He tilted his head. "As I recall, you didn't receive your complimentary massage at the bar some nights ago."

Ambulon snorted. "I would have probably purged my tanks all over you."

"I see," Effleurage chuckled. "Well. Until tomorrow, Ambulon." He reached down, took the medic's good hand and squeezed it. "Take care, rest easy, and may Primus bless you with a speedy recovery."

"Thank you."

Effleurage left as quietly as he came, and his all consuming warm energy field drained out of the room, following like the long tail of a thick cape. Ambulon could feel slight anxiety return, clutching around his spark. He thought about Scrooseloose again, then of the miners who died. Of Sharpshift reprimanding him, of Extorque lying about M-33...

"This is getting me nowhere," Ambulon grumbled, and once more rolled onto his side, cycling cool air. He finally forced himself offline and into stasis. Surprisingly, it hadn't been as hard as he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of boring info because idk: alt modes! 
> 
> Quite obviously, Ambulon did not start out with a leg as an alt mode in this fic. Rather, he turns into a type of small Cybertronian car with a flat bed on his back resembling something of a stretcher. It can fold up and close on his back when he's in bipedal mode. His helm design is the same as in the comics (sans the plug-in extensions), and paint job is comprised of purples and blues with some yellow accents.
> 
> Extorque is a small emergency medical van, while Fissure more or less has Ratchet's alt mode. Sharpshift has always looked like a more pointy Skids in my head. Most all of the security officers - including Tune Out, Trisil, and Maceforce - have police car-esque alt modes. Scrooseloose turns into a huge tank-like vehicle with a drill attached to the front (in his bipedal mode, the drill retracts into his arm). Effleurage shares the same mold as Kaon, only with a slightly different helm design as well as missing and different types of kibble. (Kaon is an electrocution chair, whereas Eff is a massage chair.)
> 
> Aren't you glad I told you all this? I thought so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~*Adumbrate*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting both chapters 5 and 6 today. Because.

Ambulon was a little disappointed, but he understood. While he had his hopes up for visiting Scrooseloose, the hospital had insisted otherwise.

Extorque explained it was due to the series of tests they would be running, plus another surgery. The next day, however, Ambulon was invited to check on his friend, depending on his condition and should he be strong enough to engage in conversation.

If Scrooseloose would recover or not was still up in the air. The chances of him remaining paralyzed from the neck down were high. Yet it was good, Ambulon supposed, to think somewhat positively. At least for his friend.

Until then, Ambulon's second day off work would be relatively uneventful.

Refusing to spend his entire time in bed, recharging or just staring at the ceiling, Ambulon requested medical files and datalogs to study on his personal console. He had only become aware of his limited knowledge in the field of medicine recently. Now was the best time to expand it. Extorque was happy to oblige - Fissure, as well - and Ambulon spent at least five hours at his console, contentedly reading.

Ambulon hadn't realized how absorbed he was in the medical files. An officer would swing by now every two hours, ask how he was doing, then head off. If he had been paying attention, he'd notice it was Maceforce, replacing the officer from yesterday. The young mech didn't seem to mind being ignored or receiving distracted grunts in reply to his questions and concerns. Just happy to serve, and do what he could for the mech that saved his life.

Once in the morning and once in the evening, Maceforce bought the resting doctor his energon rations. Ambulon hadn't noticed the two cubes sitting at the edge of his desk, waiting for some hours now. Not until his tanks sent a signal to his HUD to refuel.

The slight ache in his abdomen tore him from an essay on a very dangerous, radical operation regarding rebuilding neural nets during surgery. It was an interesting read, though its writer - a young but apparently prized student of his academy, Pham or something - did come off as a little pompous. Ambulon reached over and took his cubes; some of the energon had gone flat, but he didn't mind. Sipped idly as unblinking optics finished off the essay.

Time flew fast, in fact. Ambulon was surprised when he heard the miners shuffle inside for the night. When he checked his chronometer for the first time in hours, his optics widened. Well, shit.

Standing, Ambulon stretched his stiff joints and cursed at the strain in his recuperating arm. He touched his fingers; no sensation in his pinkie, but his ring finger was tingling a little. A good thing, he surmised. As he flexed his servos, he just then realized Effleurage hadn't stopped by as he promised. Maceforce probably told him why, but Ambulon, of course, hadn't been listening. It was a little disappointing - with the slight tension from haunching over his console a little all day, he could use the therapist's expert hands.

Ambulon sat on the edge of his berth, rolling the joints in his ankle, listening to actuators pump and hiss. He checked his chronometer again. Should be close to supper time. A little late, actually. Maybe Maceforce _had_ taken some offense being ignored; maybe Ambulon was suppose to go get his energon in the mess hall himself.

Not that he minded, really. The energon from an hour ago was still settling in his tanks. Nonetheless, he stood, about to make way--

The loud pounding on his door startled the medic, and he jumped, nearly falling over. He quickly unlocked and opened the door, expecting Extorque with bad news or a patient in need of his help. Instead, he got the lazy orange-eyed gaze from his neighbor, Boulderdash, before the huge mech practically pushed past him and inside.

Ambulon blinked, turned to regard the miner. Boulderdash's hips creaked a little as he paced the room before finally thumping to a sit in the middle. "Excuse me," Ambulon mumbled, "but do you need something?"

Boulderdash said nothing. Plating flipped open on his arm and he removed a stack of glowing cards. Began to shuffle them faster than he could even walk. Ambulon pursed his lips. "Boulderdash," he said, firmly, "what are you doing?"

"Hurry hurry hurry _hurry_!"

Ambulon grunted, the door nearly slapping him in the back. Tune Out rushed inside, shut the door with his hip, balancing three cubes of energon. He glanced back at the medic, still a little on edge. "Sorry! Did I hurt ya, doc?" he asked, now concerned.

"No, but... What are you doing here?"

"I'm _not_ here," Tune Out said, firmly, narrowing his optics. "If anyone asks, I'm at my post, diligently at work, and so totally not slacking off." He quickly deposited the cubes on Ambulon's desk. "But, yeah, sorry I'm late. I had to practically get on my knees for fraggin' Mace so I could bring you your rations instead."

"Won't he tell Armorshield you left your post without permission?"

"Mace is a good mech," Tune Out reassured, winking. "The reason he tended to you today was because he paid off your previous nursemaid to take over his shift."

Ambulon scowled. "Not a nursemaid."

"Whatever, whatever," Tune Out said, excited. He clapped and rubbed his hands together, turning bright eyes and beam to Boulderdash on the floor. "Let's get this party started!"

"What party?"

"Boulder and I are gonna play cards with ya," Tune Out chuckled.

Ambulon snorted. "I don't know how."

"I'll teachshuh," the old miner reassured, spitting.

Tune Out nudged the medic in the arm. "If you can understand what he's saying around all that drooling," he snickered.

"Shuuuhpuh."

Ambulon looked between the two friends. Boulderdash should be in his quarters, resting. Tune Out should be at his post, on duty. Instead, the young officer was handing the old miner his cube, sitting down on one side, gesturing to the free space beside him. Gave it a little pat for emphasis. Boulderdash was all ready dealing out three sets of cards.

Ambulon sighed. Oh, well.

\---

The game was relatively simple. Ambulon was surprised. He had expected something more complicated, especially when money was on the line. Yet he got the gist of it quite quickly. "No need to put credits down," Tune Out reassured, "we won't do that to ya, doc. Not when it's your first time and you're injured and all." Both he and Boulderdash, however, had piled up their credits and made their bets.

"Gee. Thanks."

Though when the game started, any doubts, concern, or irritation Ambulon had quickly faded away. Though simple, the game was indeed a little intense. Entertaining, however. The three looked over their cards, stared at one another with their best poker faces. Then, when the time was right, struck-- And of course, both Boulderdash and Ambulon had to snap at Tune Out for being loud when he lost. And he lost pretty much every round.

Between games, they'd converse, discuss recent events, what happened between then and now. Though everything was relatively benign.

"You said Scroo likes reading, right?"

Ambulon shifted through his cards with a serious gaze. Damn, he was going to lose, he just knew it. "Yes," he mumbled, concentrating.

"But he can't move his body, no?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Tune Out frowned, holding his chin in his hand. Had been stroking it quite a lot that evening. He hummed. "I think I know just what your buddy needs," he said, smiling.

Ambulon looked up. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It's back at the office. No one uses it, anyway."

"What is it?"

"I'll give it to you tomorrow, before you leave." Tune Out snorted. "Reading, though? Kinda boring."

"You have any hobbies outside of work besides losing card games?"

Boulderdash clamped a hand over his slack jaw to silence his loud guffaw. Tune Out glared at the medic, shocked. Ambulon grinned, crookedly, went back to examining his cards. "Well, maybe I won't give it to you then!" the officer snapped.

"Draw."

Each mech threw down their cards. "Sigma fraggin' Vector scrap!" Tune Out cursed, ripping at his helm as Boulderdash once more ranked in his credits. "Vector Vector Vector fraggin'--!"

"Schooore loscheeeer!" Boulderdash pointed to the medic. "He'sch won more roundsch theh yew evhur hafff in yer liffffe!"

"Beginner's luck," Tune Out sniped. "Let me deal the cards. You _always_ deal the cards."

"No."

"Why? Think I'm gonna notice your little scam?'

"Scham?"

Tune Out grinned, wickedly. "Yeah. That's right," he sneered, leaning forward with one elbow on his knee. "I know you're up to something, rusty. And I'm gonna prove it."

Boulderdash laughed moistly. "Schooo delushunal!"

"How have you not lost all your deca's credits by now?" Ambulon asked, genuinely curious. "Scrap, I'd think you'd be broke with the way Boulder's taking your aft to town."

Boulderdash choked on more laughter and drool. "Whose side are you on, doc!?" Tune Out barked, squeaking slightly. He turned to the giggling miner, grabbing for some of his lost credits. "So _maybe_ I'm running low, yeah, but Dash here doesn't mind--"

Boulderdash took Tune Out's wrist, squeezed it hard. "I won thosch fffair an' schquare, protobrain!"

"Oh, come on! I need some of my credits back! Otherwise I won't have anything on me when we go to town in a couple orns!"

"No cahn do, schtupid!"

"Come on, Dash!" Tune Out whined, trying to yank his hand free. "Don't be such a stubborn old scumface!"

"No!"

Ambulon was about to stop this game of tug-o-war with Tune Out's arm before Boulderdash suddenly went still, keeping a tight grip on his friend's wrist. He narrowed one optic, glared at Tune Out's hand.

"What is it?" Tune out asked, sounding a little defensive.

Boulderdash tapped a large finger on the officer's middle knuckle on his right middle finger. "Thisch," he said, and when his digit pulled back, Ambulon could faintly see a little orb of red peeking out from below the knuckle. Like a small ring, neatly concealed.

"What?" Tune Out blinked and looked down. "What is it? I don't see anything."

"That," Ambulon said, pointed as well.

"Fraggin' Sigma slaggit, doc--"

"Loosch ligh..." Boulderdash's optics widened with shock. "Schupid fffraghin' bashtard!" He smacked Tune Out upside the head, earning a whiny 'ow'. "You wasch recordin' th' game thisch entire timesch!?"

"No!" Tune Out snapped, shoving his hands in his lap. "I was not!"

"That explains why you've been holding your chin all night. Had a good angle--"

"Ambulon, you are the _worst_!"

"Lemmeschee!"

"No!" Tune Out barked. His optics brightened and he finally snapped, "Okay! Fine! Yes! I was recording our fraggin' games! How is that a crime?"

"But why?"

Tune Out pointed an accusing finger at the glowering miner. "I told you, he cheats! And I'm gonna find out how!" He held up his right hand. Finger plating slid back to show the rest of the miniature, implanted camera. "And I'll prove it once I go through the footage!"

"Worsch! The worsch!" Boulderdash snarled. He angrily gathered to his feet, stomping for the door.

Tune Out widened his optics. "Dash! Wait!" He scrambled after the miner, stepping between him and the door. "Please don't be angry," he pleaded. "I didn't mean--"

"You dun trustch me!" Boulderdash spit in his face. "No fffriend of mine!"

"It's not that! I just--"

"Liesch!"

"Dash, come on. Don't--"

Boulderdash shoved him away. "Tay back yer schupid credischs," he snapped. "An' leave me alone."

Ambulon frowned and stood. "Okay, you two, let's not--"

"Dash, please!" Tune Out latched onto the miner's arm, keeping him from leaving. "Dash, forgive me, come on, mech! Come on! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" The officer was practically hanging from Boulderdash's arm, anchoring him down. Though he knew the miner could very easily rip him off. "Come on, come on, don't be mad! I'm your friend! Look, I'll delete the footage, okay? I'll delete it, watch me delete it, here I go--"

"Schuuhup!" Boulderdash snarled, and shook the officer clinging to his arm. "Yer too loud!"

"We're all going to get in trouble if you don't keep it down," Ambulon scowled. He looked to Boulderdash. "I agree that what Tune Out did was very rude and a violation of trust, but - It's obvious you two are very close friends. Don't let your friendship end on such a silly note as this sore loser's inability to accept he can't play for scrap."

Tune Out grinned up at Boulderdash. "Yeah, don't-- no, wait." Nonetheless, he released the miner and stood. He showed him his camera, the red light winking off, plating closing. "Look. I turned it off. The footage has been deleted. I'll never use the camera again, okay?"

Boulderdash squinted. "Uninschtall."

Tune Out blinked. "Er, well," he mumbled, eyeing his finger. "Sorta expensive, so--"

"Ain't got no credichs causch schpend on schupid shcrap!"

"Okay!" Tune Out whined, stomping a foot. He huffed. "I'll uninstall it later. I promise. Just... Don't go, okay?" He smiled weakly again. "We're friends, just like Ambulon said. Right?"

Boulderdash glared at the officer. Looked to Ambulon, who nodded, firmly. _Let it go_. With a sigh, the miner's shoulders sagged and he grumbled. "Fine." Tune Out's optics lit up. The old mech waddled back over to the game. "Schupid fraggin' immashure brashs shpark gettin shu old fffor thisch..."

Tune Out clapped his hands. "Okay! I've still got some time left, sooo... How about we just talk, all right? No more cards for the night."

"Agreed," Ambulon replied, sighing. He didn't want to witness such a pathetic scene like before ever again. He sat back down, alongside Tune Out.

Tune Out's smile was still lopsided. "You can just keep the credits," he said to Boulderdash, currently picking up the cards.

"Oh, I plansh to."

Tune Out frowned. Still sore. Well, it made sense. He looked at his finger, at the camera concealed beneath, before glancing to Boulderdash's hands, still gathering cards. His smile returned, bright this time. "Hey! Speakin' of which!" He poked the miner's arm. "Why don't you do that um... That thing you do with palms?"

Boulderdash looked up and blinked. He turned to the medic, regarding him with a curious look. He snorted. "Nah."

"Come on! Do it!" Tune Out smiled at Ambulon. "So, y'see, Dash here says he can read your fortune and future in your palm, depending on the length and curves of your fuel lines."

"What?" Ambulon stared. "That... Doesn't make any sense."

"It's interesting, though," Tune Out said. He wrinkled his nose. "Though Dash here says I've got a short lifespan and won't have any luck in relationships. I think he just told me that to slag me off." The old miner chuckled hoarsely, and Tune Out hissed. "See? But I bet he'll give you a genuine reading."

Tune Out's grin was forced, and it was somewhat obvious. Ambulon could tell the officer didn't believe in any of this palm reading nonsense, but he wanted to put his friend back in good spirits. So the medic decided to play along.

"Okay," Ambulon said, looking to Boulderdash. He offered his good hand, palm up. "Tell me my future."

Boulderdash hesitated a moment before taking the medic's hand. He bent forward, avoiding drooling all over Ambulon's fingers. Listened, and carefully pinpointed the tell-tale fuel lines beneath. One giant servo traced the hidden lines, over and over, and he mumbled to himself, deep in thought.

_Maceforce to Tune Out. Maceforce to Tune Out. Pick up, Tune Out._

Tune Out cursed, opening the commlink. "Yes?" he said aloud, earning looks from his comrades.

_Need you back at your post, T.O. I think Armorshield might have noticed you were gone._

Tune Out's optics bulged from his skull. "I'm on my way!" he shouted, cutting the transmission. He jumped to his feet. "Gotta go! Boss might have picked up my trail!" He looked to Boulderdash. "Sorry again, rusty." Back to Ambulon. "Feel better, doc. I'll bring you that thingamajig for Scroo tomorrow morning!"

The officer said nothing else, running out of the room faster than Boulderdash could say "schrap". However, the miner had been... quiet. Still reading Ambulon's palm. The doctor looked to him.

"Having trouble?" he asked.

Boulderdash sat up a minute later. "Schorry."

"... Hey, so. About... the cheating thing." The medic squinted. "You don't actually ever..."

Boulderdash grinned broken denta. "Only schometimesch."

Ambulon blinked, shocked, before chuckling. He shook his head. "I won't say anything to Tune Out," he reassured. He drew back his hand, eyeing his palm. "So, what did it say? What's my future like?" he asked, meeting Boulderdash's gaze again.

The miner was quiet again. His smile went crooked. "Gonna be an intresching ride, doc."

\---

The following morning, Ambulon woke early. He was both a little anxious to see Scrooseloose as well as meet up with Tune Out.

Extorque commed him shortly after he onlined, told him to meet him outside. Ambulon commed Tune Out the same orders.

Tune Out was waiting for him when Ambulon left the building. He stared, curious, at the object being offered to him. "I think your friend's gonna like it," the officer smirked, and Ambulon took it, turning it over in his hands.

After explaining the device and what it did, Ambulon couldn't agree more.

Five minutes later, Extorque arrived, looking a little weary. Nonetheless, they headed out for the hospital.

\---

Ambulon had been asked to wait in the lobby while Extorque checked up on Scrooseloose first. Just to make sure he was still open and stable for visits. Ambulon didn't mind; he sat in a chair in the empty, lonely lobby, a few nurses and doctors walking by every few minutes. The hospital was rather quiet, laid back. He supposed that was a good thing.

Ambulon sat back, waited patiently. A nurse had switched on a viewscreen, currently playing the news. A peppy anchorman went on about politics and recent events. It unnerved Ambulon a little. He was smiling, sounding so cheerful as he went on to report a bombing in downtown Iacon, resulting in twenty injured and sixteen dead.

They showed images and video feed of the site; a building torn down to nothing but debris and smoke, with law enforcement and medics rushing about tending to the wounded. Carved into the ground was a peculiar symbol Ambulon had never seen before. The screen shrunk to play in the top left corner above the anchorman, who was practically buzzing with happiness as the video showed a doctor sadly covering a corpse with a blanket.

For a brief moment, Ambulon wished he was there. If only to help the medics. They all looked so... official. So bright and professional and... It didn't make sense, he knew. He was a certified medic, even with his limited knowledge. It somehow felt wrong, too, given the circumstances. A medic with a red crest and flashing blue optics was angrily shoving away a camera-bot trying to peer into the emergency van filled with those who died.

"It's been a while since they've had a bombing."

Ambulon blinked and looked up. Extorque stood before him, watching the news. "Nearly three deca-cycles ago, they took down a tower in Crystal City. Killed a lot more mechs." Frowned. "Still haven't caught those responsible, but the Iacon law enforcement knows it was done by the same mech."

"The symbol... Is that the connection?"

"The serial killer's showing off. That's his signature. Wants to be famous; go down in history for the horrible acts he's committed." Extorque scowled. "They're not sure if he's a terrorist or just a mad man getting his pistons off on the violence and killing."

Ambulon shook his head. "How is Scrooseloose?" he asked, wishing very much to change the subject.

"He's stable and online," Extorque answered. "And very excited to see you."

\---

Ambulon waited until the doctor left Scrooseloose's room before stepping inside. A big, warm beam was there to greet him. "Heya, doc!" Scrooseloose cheered. He had been propped up to a sit, arms slack at his sides. A blanket still covered his torso; however, it seemed there were less cords and wires keeping him together. Machines beeped with healthy, if not a little sluggish vitals.

"Take your time," Extorque mumbled, then shut the door.

Ambulon nodded then turned back to Scrooseloose. "You seem chipper."

"S'good t'have company!"

Though the smile was short-lived. "No change in your condition, I was told."

Scrooseloose chuckled. "Yeah. But I'm okay. They said I should get the test results by tomorrow. Though they think I'm probably never gonna completely recover. One doctor said that I might regain some control in my arms, but that's about it. He was surprised I hadn't deactivated by now. An' you know what he said. Get this - He said I was a _fighter_." He broke out into amused, hearty laughter.

"A good kind of fighter," Ambulon replied. "If, indeed, the tests come back positive, have they offered any alternatives? Surgery, perhaps?"

"Well, they got me runnin' on some artificial equipment." Scrooseloose flicked his gaze to his covered torso. "Says they're temporary, though. Once tests get back, they're probably gonna do a transplant with some real stuff. Cool thing is, 'cause it happened on duty, the mining facility's gotta pay for the operations."

"That's good." Ambulon approached the bed, studying the miner. "I'd suggest full body transfer, but I only just read up about it the other night. Apparently, it's pretty uncommon, and very dangerous. The spark usually rejects the new shell. Could take a few groons to a meta-cycle before it happened."

Scrooseloose sighed. "Yeah," he replied. "Kinda stuck in this body. Literally, too. But like I said, if there ain't nothin' they can do, I..." He trailed off, optics lowering again.

Ambulon blinked. "What is it?"

Scrooseloose sheepishly looked up at the medic. "I jus' remembered our conversation... 'Bout you askin' me if I wanted t'do anythin' else with my life 'sides mining."

"Yes?"

"Well, you suggested bein' an archivist or maybe librarian..."

Ambulon half-smiled. "You're thinking of switching careers, then?"

"I can't mine no more, that's fer sure," Scrooseloose chuckled. "I figure they won't require me to do much movin', heh."

"Perhaps."

"Hey." Scrooseloose looked to the medic's hands. "Whatcha got there?"

Ambulon looked down at the device - a small black box wrapped in a thin cord. "Fancy you ask..." He stood beside Scrooseloose's head. "This, Scrooseloose, is what they call a Simu-log." He looked at him, imploring. "Do you trust me?"

"'Course, doc."

Ambulon nodded. He sat the device down, quickly opening a small panel along the side of the miner's head.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Just need an upload link... Ah! There we go!"

Ambulon took the device, unfurled the cord. He plugged it into the port along Scrooseloose's head, shutting the plating careful around it. Scrooseloose shivered, optics brightening, as his programs suddenly gave a whirr. "W-What's happenin'?" he asked, trying not to sound worried.

"Relax. It's just powering up." Ambulon switched on the Simu-log, a screen projecting from its cycloptic eye. With a wink, the screen then displayed the following: VIRUSES A TO Z by VENTILATOR.

Scrooseloose stared. "What... is this? The Stim...?"

"The Simu-log," Ambulon explained. He tapped the small black box. "What you do is upload logs on disc into this machine. The Simu-log downloads the content and stores it in its 400ZiB memorybank. Plugging in the connector with an upload port - usually reserved for superficial downloads, like music or what-have-you - the device instantly establishes a link with your CPU." The medic nodded to the screen. "Simply using both your mental strength and willpower, you switch screens to the next page. You can even zoom in on content, highlight, bookmark." He laughed. "It really is quite fascinating. Tune Out said it was only collecting dust in the supply room."

Scrooseloose's optics were wide, bulging from his sockets. "This is..."

"Try it out," Ambulon insisted. "It may take a klik, but you can do it."

Scrooloose glanced to Ambulon. "I..." He turned back to the screen. A few seconds passed; the miner squinted. The screen flickered, switching to the next page. Scrooseloose smiled like a beam of sunshine. "Holy frag! It worked!" he gasped.

"It'll take some getting used to, but I'm sure you'll learn fast."

"This is great, doc!" Scrooseloose practically heaved. "This is--this is _amazing_!" A second page was flipped without a word.

"I've taken the liberty of uploading a few datalogs for you. All the same I loaned you. We don't have anything else."

"Nah, it's cool! I'm fine with these!" Scrooseloose laughed.

"There's a possibility you may be able to use this device in your pursuit as an archivist," Ambulon informed. "On the way here, as I was uploading the logs, Extorque explained that there is familiar equipment run by the CPU used in archiving data."

Scrooseloose's jaw dropped a little. "Is that-- Is that true?"

"You'll have to ask him for details."

"I--I will! I totally will!" Scrooseloose flipped another page. "I can't thank you enough! You an' Tune Out an' Extorque! Yer the best mechs in all of Cybertron!"

Ambulon snorted. "I don't know about that... But I'm happy you like the Simu-log." He paused. "It's yours to keep. Again, no one had any use for it."

Scrooseloose's optics started to burn, coolant prickling at the corners.

Ambulon widened his eyes. "Are you-- Are you in pain?" he asked, quickly checking the miner's vitals.

"Nah, doc," Scrooseloose sniffed, his smile soggy. "I'm jus'... happy. So flattered that you guys... you guys care." A tear of coolant ran down his cheek. "Us miners don't have many friends like you. So it's... It just means a whole lot."

"Power down your optics," Ambulon ordered, quietly. He used the edge of Scrooloose's blanket to wipe away the coolant on his face.

"Ugh, I'm a big blubberin' protoform, huh?" Scrooseloose tittered. "Sorry. That was embarrassin'."

"It's fine," Ambulon reassured. "I just don't want you to burn out your optics."

Scrooseloose chortled. "Y'know, if I ever do become an archivist, I'd like t'donate some of my earnin's to the miners," he explained. "I hear they make a reasonable amount, y'know? Plus it ain't like I'm lookin' to be rich or settle down in Translucentica Heights."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"I wanna move t'Iacon. Or Vos." The miner flipped another page. "An' yer free to visit. Anytime. Don't matter when. I'll putcha up. An' let y'read anything ya want." He's face twisted a little. "Er, well, maybe not the confidential stuff. Don't wanna get fired, y'see..."

Ambulon smirked. "I may have to take you up on your offer, if that is the case."

"Hey, an' maybe, maybe you could move to the city, too, an' work in a real fancy hospital or clinic!" Scrooseloose suggested. "Don't gotta be stuck in the mines yer whole life. You can learn more an' treat more people. Places like those could use mechs like you."

"I don't know if I'll ever be cut out for the big leagues," Ambulon replied, though he was flattered.

"Well, Pit," Scrooseloose laughed, "if I can become an archivist, then there ain't no way you can't be a big city doctor. Even if I _don't_ get the job, you've got what it takes!"

"It's nice you have so much faith in me," Ambulon said. He smiled again. "But... We'll see. I wouldn't be opposed to expanding my horizons. Working elsewhere." Away from the dirty politics in the mines.

"Well, just keep thinkin' about it. 'Cause I think it'd be great if you did leave five an' six."

"Will do."

"How's everything going in here?"

Ambulon turned to Extorque. "Fine."

"Do you like the Simu-log?" Extorque asked Scrooseloose.

"Yeah! Thanks fer uploadin' the datalogs fer me t'read!" Scrooseloose replied, happily. "I really think all this virus stuff is interestin'. Though a little scary, too."

"You and me both," Extorque smirked. He glanced back to his fellow medic. "We should get going. I asked Effleurage to do another job on your arm before you return to work tomorrow."

"Aw, so soon?" Scrooseloose frowned. "I pity ya, doc."

Ambulon snorted. "I'll visit again, if that's what you're thinking. Extorque promised to keep me updated on your case."

"Can y'come tomorrow? When I get back the results?"

"Maybe," Extorque spoke for Ambulon instead. "For now, just relax and enjoy the Simu-log."

Scrooseloose purred. "Ain't no problem there."

"See you later, Scroo," Ambulon said, and left with Extorque.

\---

Effleurage showed up shortly after Ambulon and Extorque returned to base. After another massage and a get well shoulder clap, Ambulon was left alone. He sat on his berth for a few minutes, dwelling on the day's events.

Would the test results come back positive? Would Scrooseloose _really_ take the news in stride? Tomorrow he returned to work - would Fissure and Sharpshift still be upset with him?

_Ambulon!_

The ping from the emergency commlink sent Ambulon bolting to his feet. "State the nature of the emergency!" he ordered. Though why anyone was calling him for help--

_Nothing's wrong, doc. It's Tune Out. I just wanted to talk._

Ambulon glowered and frowned. "You do realize you're using my medical emergency link that should remain open at all times if not in use for, you know, _medical emergencies_."

Tune Out snickered. _No one'll bug you. At least not until tomorrow. Besides, I knew this was the best way to get a hold of you._

"What do you need?"

_Like I said, just wanted to ask how things went with Scroo. Did he like the Simu-log? How's his condition?_

"He loved it, and is very grateful to you," Ambulon answered. "His condition remains the same. Again, test results don't come in until tomorrow."

_Ah. And... How are you? Arm doing okay?_

"Yes." A beat. "I take it something's up with you and Boulderdash."

_Huh? Whatta mean?_

"If you have time to chat idly with me - of all mechs - then something must be wrong."

_Heh. Well... I don't think Armorshield knows I left my post, but he did give me a dirty look this morning. Don't want to press my luck running off so shortly after, you know?_

"So, Boulderdash?"

 _... Yeah, okay, so *maybe* he's been a little avoidant_. A heavy sigh weaved through Ambulon's audiol filters. _I don't know. I thought everything was okay, you know? But when I went to talk to him during break, he just kind of ignored me. Seemed like he didn't want to talk. And he loves to talk. Cause no one else listens to the droolbucket._

"Well, try speaking to him again tomorrow."

_I will, but... Primus, this is just dumb. He's acting so immature._

"You have absolutely no room to talk, just f - y - i."

_Er, well, c'mon, doc. He's like vorns older than me. He should know better than to hold grudges. More than anyone else here, in fact._

Ambulon sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Tune Out."

_Can you talk to him for me?_

"Don't put me in the middle of your mess."

_Er. Sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that..._

Ambulon shifted. "If he doesn't talk to you tomorrow, I'll speak with him." He scowled. "But just this _once_. I'm a doctor, not a mediator."

_I know, and if push comes to shove and you gotta do it, it would mean a lot. I just... Hum. I'm not good at this sort of stuff._

"Neither am I, really."

_Let's just hope he realizes how sincerely sorry I am and that I feel like scrap. Like, I'd return this stupid camera, but they said no returns or refunds. I might as well just keep it. I dunno._

"Might come in handy, I guess?"

_Anyway. You should probably recharge. You go back to work tomorrow, how exciting! Bet you missed it._

"I'd be lying if I said 'no'. Well, half-lying," Ambulon snorted. "And you - get back to work before you lose your job."

_You're a doctor, not a--_

Ambulon switched off the transmission, opened the link again after Tune Out finally hung up. "Fraggin' kids," he grumbled, and crawled onto his berth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Expect the worst, hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting both chapters 5 and 6 today. Because.

Ambulon was both excited and nervous returning to work the following morning.

It was good to get back into the groove of things. Back to normalcy. Ambulon missed being busy, even if that meant a few people had to be injured. He enjoyed reading, but after reading for nearly two days straight, he needed a change of pace. Work would surely fix that.

However, there was Fissure and Sharpshift to consider. Ambulon was hoping they weren't still upset. He had just made friends out of Extorque; he didn't need Fissure to be the new bitter, cold shoulder. Sharpshift being upset with him he could live with. They didn't see much of each other anyway.

Nonetheless, Ambulon got up at his usual time in the morning and headed off to work. His hand was still slightly sluggish, but mostly his pinkie. He could hold things firmly now; whereas a few days ago, things would have slipped. So he wouldn't be useless at work, at least.

Ambulon found himself squashed between hefty miners in the elevator, as usual. He kept his arm up awkwardly above his head; couldn't apply too much pressure crushed between him and one of the workers.

Everything appeared normal as he made his way to the medbay. Miners and officers came and went. Much different from a week ago, when it was all panic and chaos. He was a little tense seeing the remains of sector six, however. Heard workers were still trying to break through the debris to open it up again.

Ambulon stopped when he faced the medbay and Sharpshift's office beside it. He could see Fissure moving around and past the window, and the back of Sharpshift's head at his console. Cycling damp air, he moved to the medbay door and stepped inside. "Hello," he said, simply enough, heading for his console. "It's good to be back."

Fissure turned, and Ambulon braced for a hateful glare. Rather, the CMO smiled, warmly, optics bright. "Glad to have you back, Ambulon," he said, mirthfully. "We missed you."

Ambulon smiled slowly. What a relief. "I hope everything's been okay?"

"Everything's been fine," Fissure reassured, reading the 'pad in his hand. "It's good you've returned, however. We were starting to get a little anxious. Ex was getting tired of doing your job."

Extorque emerged from a patient's room. "I don't like making house calls," he snorted, and earned a chortle from Ambulon. "Welcome back," he added, coolly, and took a seat at his desk.

Ambulon turned to face him. "Have you received Scrooseloose's test results?"

Extorque shook his head. "Not for another groon or two."

"I see."

"I'll notify you once I get them, however."

"Thank you."

Fissure tapped Ambulon's arm with his datapad. "Suppose you ought to get to work then, 'ey?" He snickered. "Bet your friends out on the field are eager to welcome you back."

Ambulon nodded. He quickly gathered the usual supplies and medkit before heading out. Fissure watched him go and sighed. "Now why'd you go and lie like that, Ex?" he asked without looking away.

Extorque twitched. "He doesn't need to start his first day back with bad news," he said.

"Is it really all that bad? Is it truly _just_ a loss?"

Extorque looked sternly at his boss. "What do you mean?" he inquired.

Fissure grinned at him. "I think you know what I mean."

Extorque said nothing. He bowed his head and went back to work. Tried to drown out Fissure's melodic chuckling.

\---

"Well, paint me pretty an' call me a senator! Look who's 'ere!"

Ambulon transformed just as Zing and Zel practically came tumbling his way. Zing flew forward and took him by the shoulders. "Heeey! An' you look good as new!" he laughed.

"Careful!" Zel scowled, and pointed to Ambulon's recuperating arm.

It took a moment for Zing to understand. "Oh!" He quickly threw up his hands, optics wide. "Did I dislocate anythin'?"

Ambulon smirked. "My arm is fine," he reassured, raising it and wiggling his fingers.

"A medic without 'is 'ands is like a miner without 'is drill," Zel said.

"So, doc," Zing slipped forward, wiggling his optic ridges. "How'd you like them flowers, huh? Came from Crystal City, y'know. Weren't cheap, either."

"They're great. Thank you very much."

"We split our credits, me, Zel, an' Kicker. Jus' t'buy you those pretties." Zing stepped back and held out his hand. "That'll be seventy shanix."

Ambulon blinked. Zel guffawed and playfully slugged his comrade in the shoulder. "'E's just jokin', the little runt!" He smiled at the medic. "No need t'pay oos back, doc. We're jus' happy t'have ye back."

Ambulon nodded. He peered over Zing's shoulder, at Kickspeed. The young mech was hacking away at the wall with a pick axe, quiet, solemn-faced. He looked back to Zel, frowning. "How is Kickspeed?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Zing and Zel looked to one another. Not good, then. "'E's... Functioning," Zel said, rubbing the back of his head. "You can tell that 'e ain't gotten over the entire thing wif Snubber. 'E don't talk as much as 'e used ta. Evfen then, it t'weren't a whole lot."

"The kid needs to get out of his funk, I tell ya," Zing snorted, folding his arms. "We've been tryin' everythin' we can to cheer him up. Nuttin' works. Always sulking or lookin' like he hates the world."

"Give him time," Ambulon murmured, though he was equally concerned. "His sentenced has been reduced to two deca-cycles, as I'm sure you've heard by now. So take care of him until then, all right?"

Zel beamed. "Course!" He looked back at the young mech. "Been watchin' 'im real closely. Ain't no one gonna touch Kicker while we're 'round."

"Yeah," Zing agreed, throwing aside a fist, "or we'll slug 'em right into the nearest constellation."

"Well, maybe don't do that."

"How's Scroo, huh?"

Ambulon turned to Zel. "He's stable, but... Well, it's not for certain, but given his injuries, he may be paralyzed for the rest of his life." The two miners winced. "Again, not certain. They ran some tests to determine the possibility. We're getting the results back today." He sighed. "He's taking it all rather well. I'm surprised."

Zel and Zing were quiet.

Ambulon cocked a brow. "What?" he asked. "What's wrong? His condition isn't life threatening. He'll make it."

The miners looked to one another again. Zel smiled first. "That ole Scroo, I bet 'e will," he said, reaching over to gently clamp Ambulon on the shoulder.

Ambulon, however, was still confused by their previous silence.

"Heya!" Zing suddenly chirped, bright eyed. "Maybe when he returns, we can throw him some sorta 'welcome back' party or somethin'!"

"Oi! I'm up far that! High grade all 'round!"

Ambulon just stayed quiet, watching the two gab and laugh. He couldn't shake the feeling they were hiding something from him. But before he could ask, really try and pry, Zing said, "Kicker! Git over here! At least come say 'hi'!"

Kickspeed looked up, frowning. After a moment's consideration, he let the axe hang at his side and walked over to join the group. "Hello," he said, quietly.

"How are you doing, Kickspeed?"

Kickspeed just shrugged.

Zing threw an arm over his shoulders, pulled him closer. The young mech didn't seem to mind. "Tell Ambulon-- tell him what you told me about the flowers!" he said. He looked to the medic. "Ambulon, never gonna believe this, but like-- As we was pickin' out flowers for you, I suggested this really pale yellow one, and then all the sudden, this guy here-- this guy here says 'no' cause they're--!" He paused, shaking his friend.

Kickspeed sighed. "R. Tristium."

Zing cackled, slapping his knee. "'R. Tristium'! 'R. Tristium', can ya believe it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The yellow flower Zing wanted t'buy you. It's known as a tristi," Kickspeed explained, simply.

"Not only did he know what type of flower it was before I could tell 'im," Zing said, and gave the young mech another jerk, "tell him what you said next!"

Kickspeed rolled his optics. "In the language of flowers, the tristi represents 'discomfort' or 'uneasiness'." He shifted a little. "It's inappropriate to give t'people who are ill."

Ambulon blinked. "How did--"

"He was a florist, doc!" Zing laughed. "Our Kicker here was a florist! Can you believe that!?"

"The life of a petty thief doesn't pay much, ya know," Kickspeed scowled. "I couldn't live on scraps. So... I had a job. For about half a cycle." He looked back to Ambulon. "Mech ran a flower shop in my town; sold stuff imported from Iacon. I helped him out. He droned on an' on about this scrap, so I picked some of it up, big deal. It's not like I know _everything_ about flowers." He shrugged. "Business went under. Shop closed. I went back to robbing for a living."

"You learn new things everyday, don'tcha?" Zing sighed, still amused.

Zel shuffled forward. "Y'had yar fun now, chucklehead?" He nudged Zing off of Kickspeed and back to work. Glanced to Ambulon. "We ought t'get back t'work. You, too, doc! Got a lot of catchin' up t'do, I imagine."

"Right," Ambulon mumbled, "... right."

Ambulon watched the two head back to business, still talking animatedly.

"Zel an' Zing chose most of the flowers, to be honest."

Ambulon looked aside. Kickspeed was staring at him, his optics dim.

"Did you pick any?"

"Just one," Kickspeed replied. "The sperosa."

"Which one was that?"

"There was only one sperosa in the bouquet." Kickspeed raised a finger. "Its petals were dark purple, with splotches of lighter purple." He hesitated. "I was hopin' you'd give it to yer friend."

"I'm assuming you bought it for its meaning?" Ambulon asked. "And... Scrooseloose?"

Kickspeed studied the medic, and Ambulon felt... a little unnerved. The young mech had changed quite a bit since the fight. His EM field was melancholic, weak. "My old boss - the flower shop owner - told me in his business, red represents life, an' blue represents loss or sadness. Purple, however, represents 'hope' an' 'miracles'. Because what's between life an' death but hope and a miracle? And, doc..." Kickspeed looked at him firmly. "Your friend desperately needs them."

Ambulon blinked. "How do you..."

"You noticed Zing an' Zel suddenly going quiet and rigid when you told 'em about Scroo's condition," Kickspeed explained. He chanced a quick look back. "They know something, but they won't tell you. Even I'm not sure what, precisely, they're not saying. But, if you think about it, ain't it obvious?" He stroked his chin. "A paralyzed miner. In our society, yer alt mode determines yer fate, right? I mean, if yer a miner, that's all yer ever gonna be."

"You don't know that," Ambulon said, frowning. "Scrooseloose has other pursuits in mind."

"Yeah, an' you think _they're_ going to let that happen?" Kickspeed snickered, bitterly. "Switch on your optics, doc. Scrooseloose was born a miner; that's it. That's all he's ever gonna be. That's all there is to it. You were born to be a doctor, an' a doctor you'll stay. So, let me ask you..." He tilted his head. "Whatta think will happen to a miner who can't mine in a society like ours?"

Ambulon glowered. "I know you've suffered from serious mental trauma recently," he scowled, "but there's no reason to talk like this."

"C'mon, doc. Don't act so naive. _You really think_ they're going to--"

Ambulon raised a hand. "Enough," he said, curtly. "We're still waiting for confirmation on his condition. If he will indeed remain paralyzed for the duration of his life. There's no saying he'll always be like this, or he won't get better."

Kickspeed stared him down. "You know, doc," he said, sniffing. "It's more for _your_ sake that I hope he gets better. Zel an' Zing act all optimistic, but they know the truth. They just don't wanna hurt yer feelings."

" _Kickspeed_."

"I'm going back to work," Kickspeed said, hefting up his pick axe. "See ya later, doc." He turned, skulking back to the mines below.

Ambulon's spark thrummed with irritation and confusion. He cursed under his breath and transformed. Kickspeed looked back at the sound of tires ripping furiously along the ground. He watched the medic drive off before bowing and shaking his head.

\---

Sector six was a mess.

Most of the tunnels had been choked with debris. Miners and officers were still trying to pick their way through. Couldn't use explosives; not for a while. Ambulon had climbed up on a hill that apparently used to be Scrooseloose's post. Now just a mile of wasteland and rubbish.

Ambulon couldn't help but make a connection. Between the remains and what had become of his friend. Before he could reprimand himself for thinking so negatively, Extorque sent him message.

The test results had arrived.

\---

Ambulon stared firmly at the datapad. Re-read it a third time.

"It's not going to change, you know."

"I know," Ambulon grumbled.

Extorque sat facing him. "We all knew the chances were slim. We all knew it would come to this."

Ambulon sighed and pushed away the datapad. "Is there nothing they can do?" he asked, massaging his forehead. 

"The damage is too extensive for surgery," Extorque explained. "It's too dangerous to operate on his backstrut. The sensors were completely annihilated, and cannot be replaced. Even if that were possible, the chances of Scrooseloose regaining mobility would still be in the low 20 percentile. He's lucky he still has some control of his facial actuators."

"Basically, surgery is too risky?"

Extorque nodded, solemnly.

Ambulon grumbled again before sitting back, fingers working hard circles into his temples. "Even with all the technology in the world, we can't-- _ack_!"

Extorque stood quickly as Ambulon winced, sitting forward. "Careful! Your arm's still healing," Extorque scowled, and took the field medic's hand.

"Small cramp, that's all. It's gone now," Ambulon insisted. He looked up as Extorque examined his fingers. "I bet he's taking this news better than I am," he smirked. "I mean, Sigma, it's not like it's the end for him. Just because he's paralyzed, doesn't mean he's dying."

Extorque quietly released Ambulon's hand. "He's doing fine," he said. "Apparently he didn't talk for a while after they told him, but now he's gone back to his usual cheerful demeanor."

"He's thinking about becoming an archivist," Ambulon explained. "Did he tell you that?"

"A little."

"Guess he's free to try now."

"I guess so."

Ambulon looked up. "You're acting like..."

Extorque quirked a brow. "Like what?"

Zing and Zel. Kickspeed. Ambulon shook his head. "Nothing," he murmured, "just... nothing."

Extorque eyed his colleague, his gaze turning to the shelf of datalogs. He glanced back, optics dim. "I'll be visiting him after work," he explained. "If you'd like, you're welcome to join."

"Of course."

"I think he'd like that, too." Extorque sat back at his desk. "You two seem to have grown rather close. I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"I know I'm not one to talk, but you never came off as the sociable type. Would prefer to keep people at arm's length."

Ambulon shrugged. "You're not entirely wrong," he said. "I guess I'm content with just a few friends."

"Scrooseloose is very opposite your personality."

"Perhaps."

"So it just amuses me, I guess," Extorque mumbled. "He talks about you frequently. As if you're the only friend he has."

"I sort of am, I think," Ambulon snorted.

"Are you as close to him as he is you?"

Ambulon stared. "How do you mean?"

"Well, to him, you're his best friend. Is he yours?"

"I... guess?" Ambulon sighed. "I don't know. I don't really have 'best' friends. Is he important to me? Yes. He's both a friend and a patient. Of course he is."

"And you say he wants to be an archivist?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he has what it takes?"

Ambulon hummed. "The ambition is definitely there. He's not as dumb as people make him out to be. But I think he still has a lot to learn. Most definitely will need some training."

"Do you believe that? Honestly?"

"What do you mean?" Ambulon scowled. "You know, you and the others - I don't understand what any of you are trying to say. You act all cryptic, and I don't get it."

"We're just... concerned," Extorque murmured. "I know Scrooseloose said he would be fine if he was paralyzed the rest of his life, but... Well, you never know. Before, it was just a matter of 'maybe'. So there was still hope to lean on. Now... Now that he _knows_ , that optimism may no longer be there."

"I understand that much," Ambulon said, "but the way you all act... As if... As if he..."

"What?" Extorque sat forward.

"... Just. No. You know what?" Ambulon shook his head. "Nevermind."

Extorque sneered. "Now you're the one being all cryptic."

Ambulon snorted.

"... But he is important to you, isn't he?"

"Hmm?" The field medic looked back to Extorque. His smile seemed sad now; weak.

"Scrooseloose."

"Yes. I told you that."

Extorque locked optics with Ambulon. Ambulon did not look away. After studying his face, Extorque stood, moving across the medbay. "I'll let you know when I'm leaving," he explained.

"Right," Ambulon replied, feeling incredibly uneasy.

"You're both goin' to visit M-36 tonight?"

Fissure stepped back into the office, looking between his colleagues.

"Yes," Ambulon replied.

"Will you say 'hello' for me? I'm afraid I never did get the chance to visit him in the hospital."

"Will do."

Fissure glanced to Extorque. "Tell him I said everything will work out."

Extorque frowned. "Right," he mumbled.

Something was wrong. Something was very off. Ambulon could feel the tension in the air. His spark ached, a little, and he wasn't quite sure why. Then Fissure was handing him over a report to fill out, and he quickly forced himself back to work, pushing aside the gloom threatening to swallow him whole.

\---

The rest of the day went on without a hitch.

Ambulon wished it had.

Ever since speaking to Extorque, as well as Kickspeed, Ambulon had a hard time concentrating. They acted as if there was nothing left for Scrooseloose. That there was no future for him as a paralyzed miner. However, what concerned Ambulon more was how Scrooseloose was handling the news. Was he _really_ taking it as well as Ambulon liked to believe? Was he still hopeful for the future?

Did Ambulon really, truly believe he could become an archivist?

Of course he could, Ambulon scowled to himself. With the proper amount of training, why not? He could read quite well; he wasn't this stupid, bumbling moron everyone made him out to be. Slow, yes, but not an idiot. Perhaps it was his blinding optimism that people mistook as stupidity.

Though Ambulon wished the others would just outright say what they felt. They didn't think Scrooseloose could do it. Didn't think society would give him the chance. Ambulon cursed; such narrow-minded thinking. Maybe if they knew Scrooseloose as well as he did, they would understand. To them, Scrooseloose might as well be dead.

When Extorque called for him, Ambulon was not as nearly excited as he thought he'd be. He was still irritated by all the doom and gloom from earlier that evening. Extorque noticed immediately, but said nothing. In fact, the entire trip to the hospital was quiet; neither exchanged a word.

\---

When they arrived, Ambulon headed in first.

"Oh, hey, doc. Glad you could make it."

Scrooseloose's optics moved from the Simu-log screen. Ambulon forced on a smile. "How are you doing?" he asked. Stupid question, but...

"I'm okay," Scrooseloose replied.

"Are you?"

The miner sighed. "... Well. I am kind of upset, yeah. I mean, who wouldn't be?" He shuttered his optics. "But, I mean... I can't do nothin'. The doctors can't do nothin'. I figure there's no point moanin' an' groanin' about somethin' none of us can change."

Ambulon smirked. "I see..."

"What is it, doc?"

"I'm just..." Ambulon sighed. He took a seat beside the berth. "I was just afraid you wouldn't be handling this very well."

Scrooseloose smiled. "I'm okay, doc. Don't worry."

"Right. You're okay. You'll be okay." Ambulon pointed to the screen. "Gone through all the logs yet?"

"Not yet," Scrooseloose snickered. "But just about." His optics rolled back to Ambulon. "Y'know, I spoke with a nurse, an' he said he can probably get me more logs for this thing."

"Do you have any specific requests?" Ambulon asked. "I might be able to help."

"But that means you gotta pay for them," Scrooseloose mumbled. "Don't waste yer credits on me."

"I'm not _wasting_ them."

"Tarn's got a library. Maybe you could jus' pick me up a few datalogs? Y'know, nothin' you gotta pay for."

Ambulon nodded. "I can try that."

"I'm sure they've got some for these things," the miner said, looking at the reading device. He looked back up. "An'... See if there's anythin' on like... How to be archivist, or somethin'." Scrooseloose chortled. "I dunno. You know what I mean, though. Stuff like that."

"So you still want to be an archivist, then?"

"Course! 'Cause obviously I can't be a miner no more," Scrooseloose replied. He flipped a page on the screen. "The company'll help pay my way. They gotta, 'cause of the accident."

"I can help, if need be," Ambulon offered.

"I'll probably be spendin' some time in my quarters back at the mines," Scrooseloose replied. "Gonna be real borin', bein' in bed all by myself all the time. So you gotta keep me company. Until I finally find a way t'get outta that place."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Ambulon agreed. He sighed and sat forward. "I'm... just glad to see you're all right."

Scrooseloose chuckled. "Beam o' starshine, that's me." His smile softened. "Don't worry 'bout me, doc. I may not be a _fighter_ -fighter, but... I'm a fighter when it comes ta stuff like this, y'know." He laughed. "Ain't been knocked outta the ring yet!"

"Keep up that spirit," Ambulon insisted.

"It ain't like the game's over. I just made it to the second round!" Scrooseloose said. He met Ambulon's optics, and they stared at one another, quietly. As the seconds of silence passed, Scrooseloose's grin started to fade. His optics began to burn. "I'm..." he said, and coolant bubbled at the corners of his eyes. "I'm..."

"It's okay," Ambulon reassured, gently.

Scrooseloose sniffed, and tracks of coolant ran down his cheeks. "I'm _paralyzed_ , doc," he said, voice strained and so tiny for such a big mech. "I can't do nothin' about it. I'm just... I'm _stuck_ like this." His wet optics shuttered. "I'm-- I _hate this_..."

Ambulon placed a hand on Scrooseloose's shoulder. He said nothing, allowed the miner to sob quietly. Every few seconds he would use the blanket to dry his face. Scrooseloose grit his denta, trying to contain his sobs, but tears kept flowing. "So--so stupid... So... pathetic..." he choked, angrily, optics shuttering again. "Shouldn't be... be cryin', actin' like a... like a... protoform..."

Ambulon sat beside Scrooseloose, keeping one hand on his shoulder. Said nothing, just watched him. The miner openly cried for nearly ten minutes, before the coolant began to dry. His optics powered to fifty percent, tired, aching from the burn. He looked to the medic sitting loyally at his side, and forced on a wet smile. "Sorry 'bout that..." he tittered, swallowing.

"Don't apologize," Ambulon replied. He dried Scrooseloose's face again. "I'm glad you got that out instead of letting it fester."

"An' who knows!" Scrooseloose laughed. "Maybe one orn they'll be able t'fix me up proper again. 'Cause we're always findin' out about new things. All this new technology an' stuff. Maybe one day, they can safely transfer my spark an' CPU into a whole new body." His optics brightened a sliver. "Hey, like, what if I got me a flier mold? Aw, couldja imagine? I always wondered what it's like t'fly. So jealous of the Seeker class molds." He sighed, dreamily. "So sleek an' agile. Nothin' like big, clunky me. I would probably never stop flyin' if I was a Seeker."

"You'd probably crash if you didn't," Ambulon snorted, and his friend laughed. "But... Who knows."

"Even if things don't change... Well. I guess you just gotta keep hopin', right?"

Ambulon remembered what Kickspeed said. Between life and death, there's hope and miracles, and Scrooseloose would need them both. He quickly forced himself back to the subject at hand, smiled with a little effort. "That's right," he agreed.

"So!" Scrooseloose cycled a deep gulp of air. "When I become an archivist livin' in Iacon or Vos, you gotta come visit me. An' I'm gonna try helpin' you find a job at, like, Iacon Medical Hospital or whatever. That way you can work where you belong."

Ambulon sneered. "Oh, come on. My job now may not be extravagant or very fulfilling, but they need me."

"Hmm," Scrooseloose mumbled. "Well, then. When yer ready. 'Cause I'm sure yer gonna wanna break out one day. Try an' stretch yer medical skills an' stuff."

"Maybe," Ambulon replied. "We'll see how everything goes."

"But you will visit, right?"

"Of course."

"Good!" Scrooseloose looked away. "'Cause, um... When I do leave the mines an' stuff... You're still gonna be my friend, right?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I guess I figured I'd just be forgotten."

"Don't think like that," Ambulon scowled.

Scrooseloose smiled. "Okay. I won't."

"Everything okay?"

Extorque entered the room, moving a bit slowly. He looked between Ambulon and Scrooseloose. "I spoke with the doctor," he explained. "Figured I'd leave you two alone to chat."

"When are they gonna discharge me, doc?" Scrooseloose asked.

Extorque hesitated. "We haven't decided," he answered, quietly.

Scrooseloose grunted. "Hope soon. The energon here is worse than at the mines, believe it or not."

Ambulon went to speak before he spotted the small disc in Extorque's right hand. "What's that?" he asked.

Extorque blinked, raised the disc. "Oh, right. Almost forgot," he chuckled. He showed the disc to Scrooseloose. "Brought you another datalog. You're missing one log from a series Ambulon uploaded for you."

"Aw, thanks!" Scrooseloose beamed.

Extorque smiled slightly. "It might take a while to download, however," he explained. "It's rather big. Lots and lots of information to stuff your CPU with."

"I don't mind waitin'," the miner assured. "Got me two other logs on here I needa go through."

"Right," Extorque said, fingers closing tight around the disc. He glanced back to Ambulon. "Well... We've got about ten more kliks before we need to head back. I'll let you two alone to talk a little longer."

"The log, doc?"

Extorque paused, then turned. He looked at the disc in his hand, then to Scrooseloose, and finally Ambulon. "Right. I'm a little scrambled today. Tired, I guess," he tittered. He took the small Simu-log box, and slowly inserted the disc. Scrooseloose shivered as he felt the small rush of connection.

"Woo!" Scrooseloose chuckled. "You were right about it bein' a big file, doc."

Extorque's grin twitched. "Sorry," he said. "But just... let it download. Again, it'll take a while."

"No problem."

Extorque left then, shutting the door behind him.

"He okay, doc?"

Ambulon looked back to Scrooseloose. "He's been a little on edge today," he said. "I didn't want to pry and ask what's wrong. Doing that usually gets me the cold shoulder."

Scrooseloose snickered. "Too serious, Ex," he said.

Ambulon thought a moment. "Before I forget, too..." Scrooseloose watched, curiously, as the medic opened the small compartment on his hip. His eyes widened, glowing brightly, as Ambulon held up the purple rose. "Have this."

"Oh, wow," Scrooseloose breathed, awed, "is that... That's from the Crystal Gardens, right?"

"Yes," Ambulon replied. He turned the glass flower in his fingers. "It's a sperosa."

"I ain't ever seen a Crystal Garden flower before," Scrooseloose added. "It's so... pretty."

Ambulon laughed. "Well, maybe I'll get you a bouquet."

"No! Don't waste credits on me, doc!"

"Well, then, it's me paying you back for those drinks," Ambulon insisted.

Scrooseloose huffed, and Ambulon laughed.

The two spoke for another ten minutes, mostly about the current state of the mines. When it came time to go, Ambulon stood and looked down at the miner. "I may not be able to see you tomorrow," he said, placing the flower on the bedside table, "but definitely before the meta-cycle's up."

Scrooseloose smiled. "Take yer time, doc," he said, chortled, "trust me, I won't be goin' nowhere."

Ambulon smirked. He pat Scrooseloose's shoulder. "Get some rest."

"You, too, doc."

\---

By the time Extorque and Ambulon returned to the mines, the place was quiet. Everyone had gone to their quarters for sleep, or sent off on their nightly posts.

"Are you doing okay?"

Extorque halted just after he transformed. He turned, and Ambulon stood before him, plating shifting into place. 

"What do you mean?"

"You just seem..." Ambulon didn't know what to say.

Extorque smirked. "I told you. I'm tired," he explained, rubbing his forehead. "Had to deal with a few stubborn glitches while you were out on the field today."

Ambulon wasn't convinced. "If you want to talk," he said, calmly, "then--"

" _Nothing is wrong_!"

Ambulon winced at Extorque's loud, angry reply. Extorque glared at Ambulon for a moment; a warning to back off. Then, that edge disappeared from his gaze, and once again, the golden medic looked fatigued. "Sorry," he murmured, shuttering his optics. "I didn't mean to snap there. Just... I'm tired."

"Go get some rest, Extorque," Ambulon replied, gently. "If need be, take tomorrow off. I'll deal with Sharpshift. The protoform can't ignore me forever, you know."

Extorque snickered. "Don't worry about it," he insisted. "I'll be fine. I don't need time off."

"Well, then," Ambulon said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Tomorrow," Extorque mumbled, his smile still too tired and weak. "Goodnight, Ambulon," he added, quietly, and headed off to his quarters.

Ambulon watched him go, that sinking feeling returning to his spark.

\---

Ambulon went to the washracks first, hoping to rid himself of the doubt and concern alongside the dirt and grime of the mines. It helped, but very little. Recharge would have to do. Ambulon stood at his door, took a moment to examine his hand, before punching in the code and--

"He _still_ won't talk to me."

"Vector Sigma!" Ambulon cursed, nearly falling back into the hall. He glared at Tune Out sitting and sulking at the foot of his berth. "How did you get in here?" he scowled, shutting the door behind him.

"Security override." Tune Out pursed his lips. "It's been like two orns, why is he still pouting?"

"Who? Boulderdash?" Ambulon snorted. "Why don't you go and _ask_ him? He's right next door, you know."

"He won't answer the door."

"But you'll use security override codes on _mine_?"

"You used your medical overrides on his, remember?"

"For a good reason."

Tune Out groaned and flopped over on the berth. "If I did that, he'd only get angry. Say I'm betraying his trust again or some scrap," he grumbled.

"Shouldn't you be at your post?"

"I mean, I've said I'm sorry like a hundred thousand fraggin' times. What more does he want?"

"Seriously, did you get Maceforce to cover for you again?"

"Like, should I cut off a finger or somethin' and give it to him? Primus, what am I doing wrong?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking me?" Ambulon scowled. "This is between you and him."

"I need advice!"

"I offer _medical_ advice."

"Well, this is medically related! Something's broken, so you gotta fix it!"

Ambulon glowered. "Both of you are acting like protoforms," he replied a second later. "And I can't help you."

" _Augh_!" Tune Out cursed, sitting up. "Why does he have to be like this?" He turned, leaned toward the wall, and said loudly, " _Acting like a stubborn rusty old glitch_!"

"Keep it down!" Ambulon hissed, yanking him on his feet.

There was a bang from the wall. "You know I'm right!" Tune Out shouted back, and Ambulon quickly shoved him toward the door.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow!" the medic snapped, opening the door. "Get back to your post before I personally contact Armorshield and tell him what you've been doing behind his back!"

Tune Out's horrified optics popped from his skull. " _You wouldn't_."

Ambulon grinned, wryly. " _Try me_."

The officer studied Ambulon, as if to call him on his bluff. The doctor, however, remained firm. He had built up an excellent poker face since their card game. Swallowing, Tune Out calmly stepped out into the hall, turning to face Ambulon. "Well, you will still talk to him, right?" he asked, voice straining a little.

Ambulon scowled and waved a hand. "Yes, yes!" He shoved at Tune Out again. "Just _go_!"

"Fine!" Tune Out whined and marched off.

Ambulon sighed, shut and locked the door, pressing his back to it.

Another bang from the wall.

"Knock it off!" Ambulon snapped. "You're just as bad!"

Nothing but silence. Ambulon waited a few seconds before making his way to his console. While tired, he wanted to do some research. Scrooseloose mentioned there was a library in Tarn. If he could get directions, he could visit it next time they had the day off. Made a mental note to ask Scrooseloose what he actually _liked_ reading when he saw him next. Certainly he'd prefer something other than virology.

The Tarnian library did exist, though it appeared rather small. Didn't have much of a selection in way of Simu-log discs. However, he'd keep a list handy to show Scrooseloose later. Once he finished, Ambulon stood and headed to his berth. Optics powered down and he sighed - it had been a very long day.

Ambulon fell into recharge with only minor difficulty.

\---

When morning rolled around, Ambulon almost ignored his internal alarm. It took him a minute before he finally switched it off and forced himself to wake. He'd gotten used to sleeping in the past few days.

Ambulon headed off to work five minutes later. Shuffled in line with the miners, downstairs and outside. Today felt pretty average, in fact. As if things were finally returning to normal.

The elevator door shut on Ambulon, nearly hitting his arm. He once more cradled it close to his chest. The cables above groaned as the elevator made its descent.

"Ambulon! Sir!"

Ambulon blinked, and the miners grumbled complaints as Maceforce forced the elevator operator to stop the machine. Once it came to a halt, the officer ran over to Ambulon, his optics bright and face contorted in shock and fear.

"What is it?" Ambulon asked.

Maceforce opened his mouth. A small, strained noise, then silence. He clenched his denta and sighed, looked down. Reluctantly held out the datapad to the medic.

Ambulon stared at the officer a moment before taking the 'pad. Turned it over.

Notification of Scrooseloose's death.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burying and exhuming: neither are very pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one of my best chapters, but hey, here it is.
> 
> Oh, also, I maaaaay be renaming this fic. I was thinking "Pazi Sta Radis", which is Croatian for "watch your step/what you're doing". I found it via a song and thought, heeey. I like how it sounds. But, I don't know! Is it easier with just "Steps"?

The door to the medbay hissed open, nearly slammed as Ambulon pushed it aside faster. He stepped in, yellow optics wide. Extorque calmly turned from his desk, looked up at his colleague. Ambulon wordlessly held out the notification of Scrooseloose's passing.

Extorque frowned. "See you received your copy."

"What happened?" Ambulon demanded. He shook the 'pad. "The notif says they'll be transmitting a copy of the autopsy report as well as any further information--"

"--To my console, yes," Extorque finished. He sighed, and removed a datapad from beside his computer. Offered it to Ambulon. The field medic looked between it and Extorque's blank face before slowly taking it. As he read the report, Extorque verbally dictated: "At 20:21 groons, Scrooseloose complained of minor spark spasms and slight chest pain. At 20:25, these spasms turned into full on erratic palpitations. Doctors ran him to the ER. By 20:38, patient fell into a catatonic state. Sparkpulse decreased dramatically, until he reached spark failure at 20:42. There were several attempts made to revive the patient, but with no change. At 20:49, the patient was declared dead. Cause of death was listed as spark infarction.”

Ambulon remained quiet, reading everything carefully. "It says here," he mumbled, pointing to the 'pad, "he was due for a pre-op exam at 21:00 groons."

"Right," Extorque replied. "Equipment transplantation. Had to be cleared for surgery before they could proceed."

"There's no indication as to what caused the sudden palpitations and inevitable spark failure."

Extorque sat forward. "They've yet to find a cause, but they believe it might have been a system rejection of his artificial equipment put in during his last surgery."

"Why would they go through with the surgery if that were a possibility?" Ambulon asked.

"There were always going to be risks. Even if he was cleared, there was still a 57% chance Scrooseloose would have relapsed or rejected the new equipment."

Ambulon shook his head. "He seemed to be doing... so well." He frowned, lowering the 'pad. "I'm just... I'm shocked."

"We all are," Extorque mumbled.

Ambulon looked back to his colleague. "What have they done with his remains? And what about his possessions?"

"His remains have been handed off to the hospital. They will place a memorial for him at Miner's Dirge."

"'Miner's Dirge‘?"

"Basically, a memorial site for the miners."

Ambulon snorted. "So, by default, that's where all the miners‘ go when they pass? What if they want to be placed somewhere else?"

"I don't know," Extorque retorted. "No miner, to my knowledge, has ever complained or requested their memorial be placed elsewhere."

Ambulon studied the golden medic. There was something off about him today; he seemed… detached. Then again, the distant sadness was shared. He seemed more inclined to not talk about it. "His possessions?" Ambulon asked again.

"They'll be sent over soon. When they arrive, I'll call--"

"What are you two doing? Gossiping like a bunch of youngsters when you're on the clock?" Fissure growled, storming into the medbay. He slammed a pile of datapads down on his desk. Before either medic could answer, he turned and pointed at Ambulon. "You should be out on the field, doing your job! Not lollygagging around the medbay for no reason." His cold gaze turned on Extorque, who shrunk a little. "And _you_ \-- You've got a patient in five kliks! Why haven't you prepped a room?"

"Sorry, sir," Extorque murmured and gathered to his feet, skittering past the glowering CMO.

Fissure sneered at Ambulon. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded.

Ambulon's frown twitched. "Right," he mumbled. He placed Scrooseloose's autopsy report back on the desk before heading outside. As he made way for the field, he stopped, turned. Fissure was barking seemingly to no one, Extorque rushing back and forth behind him, head hung low. He looked aside, and spotted Sharpshift pacing in his office.

Ambulon decided it was best to get as far away from here as possible.

\---

Ambulon would have made his usual first round in Zel, Zing, and Kickspeed's sector, but... Instead, he went the opposite direction. Moving from finish to start instead. He cruised slowly past the miners hard at work. Everyone seemed healthy and content, quietly working away. Oblivious of their companion's passing. Though he doubted most would care, especially if they were part of RiffRaff's gang or the Solus Purists’ cult.

An hour in, and Ambulon realized he hadn't been paying attention to his duties. Sure, he was working, watching his patients, but not quite... registering things. The world felt a little fuzzy, far away, and Ambulon was sure the slight floating sensation was detachment from reality.

While Ambulon was sincerely sad and upset for his friend's passing, he was also... confused. It just didn't make sense in his head. Scrooseloose seemed to be on the road to recovery. Everything appeared to be working out. Why would he suddenly succumb to spark failure? The week or so he had been in the hospital, his spark had never once acted up. 

This just seemed... random. Strange.

Inevitably, Ambulon found himself moving into the sector where Zel and his friends worked. They hadn't seen him approaching, making his way ever so slowly and quietly around the corner. Zing was the first to spot him, beamed, and waved him down. Ambulon almost felt compelled to keep driving, just... move on. He wasn't quite sure why he didn't want to face the others; he knew they'd mourn for Scrooseloose, but something... something angry stirred inside of them.

Ambulon knew they doubted Scrooseloose recovering. They tried to hide it that day, but he knew. Kickspeed was right. They were only pretending to be hopeful, for his sake. And it irritated him, for reasons he didn't quite understand. It wasn't their fault for being more realistic; he should have known better.

"Oi! Where ya goin'?"

Zing stepped in front of him then, hands on his hips. Ambulon transformed. "You were just gonna drive on by without even sayin' 'hello'?" the miner snorted. "Rude, doc."

"Sorry," Ambulon mumbled.

Zing tilted his head. "... Somethin' wrong?"

Ambulon wanted to assure him everything was fine. He was fine. Scrooloose's death would be announced soon enough; word passed quickly in these parts. Instead, without missing a beat, he answered: "Scrooseloose is dead."

Zing winced. He bowed his head a moment later. "Wow," he murmured, "sorry, doc."

"What are you apologizing to me for?" Ambulon asked. "I'm not the one who's dead."

Zing rubbed the back of his head. "Eh, well, y'know... Just... I know he was yer friend, so..."

"Wot's goin' on over 'ere?" Zel asked, elbowing Zing aside. His smile dimmed at the pallor in Ambulon's optics. "Oh no. Wot 'appaned?"

"Scroo died," Zing answered, and immediately his friend recoiled. However, the shock quickly turned into melancholy. It was as if neither were truly surprised; Ambulon knew they weren't. They knew Scrooseloose wouldn't make it.

"'Ow'd it 'appen?" Zel asked, quietly.

"Spark failure."

Zel sighed. "Wot a way t'go. Poor ole Scroo. M'sorry far yar loss, luv."

"They gonna place a memorial for 'im at... uh. The uh." Zing snapped his fingers by his head.

"Miner's Dirge?" Ambulon helped.

"Yeah, that's what everyone outside calls it. But, uh... It's called somethin' different down here. Mostly by the Purists."

"It's Primal Vernacular. 'Ard t'pronounce an' all," Zel explained. "Translated roughly inta neocybex, it's somefin' along the lines-a 'embrace of Solus'."

"I guess that sounds better than 'Miner's Dirge‘."

Zing shrugged. "At least they constructed some sorta memorial fer us."

"Ain't never been thar, personally," Zel added.

Zing threw up his hands. "'Ey!" he shouted, suddenly excited. "What ya fellas say we go an' visit his memorial site? Y'know, after they've set it up an' all." He looked back to Ambulon, hopeful. "Pay our respects, an' stuff. Say our final goodbyes."

Ambulon wasn't nearly as enthusiastic, however, but he wasn't opposed to the idea. "I suppose we could do that."

"Couple o' orns, an' we get our big day off!" Zel said. "We can go then, yea?"

"Great idea!" Zing whipped around and hollered at Kickspeed still at work. "Yo! Kicker! Get yer aft over here!"

The young mech sighed and put down his pick axe. He approached the group with a slight drag in his walk. "Is Scrooseloose dead?" he asked without warning, turning to Ambulon. Ambulon was only slightly taken aback by the blunt question.

Zel took Kickspeed's shoulder and shook him. "'Ey, now. Ambulon's goin' through a rough time 'ere. Be a li'l more sympathetic, ya 'ear?" he said, firmly.

Kickspeed shrugged, the hand moving aside. "What do ya need?" he asked, blandly.

"Well, Mister Grumpyjerk," Zing snorted, "we're gonna go visit Scroo's memorial site at Miner's Dirge durin' break. An' yer gonna come with us."

Kickspeed glowered. "You know I can't leave the compounds," he scowled.

"Aw, but I'm sure Sharp or 'Shield will jus' let ya go out fer a couple groons. Stop an' pay some respects to yer old friend."

Kickspeed had the look of someone completely disinterested. However, before he could refuse, he looked back to Ambulon. The medic didn't seem to care if he came or not, but... "Yeah, okay," Kickspeed agreed. This earned slight surprise from Ambulon, who had expected him to turn the invite down immediately. " _If_ you can get Sharpshift to let me go."

"Then it's settled!" Zing declared. "How 'bout we go around maybe noon-ish? That okay wit' you guys?"

"Fine by me, luv."

"Sure."

Everyone looked to Ambulon. The medic thought a moment. 

"Noon then."

\---

Ambulon was called to the medbay five minutes before his energon break. He took his time on the trip back. If Fissure was still in a mood, he'd like to arrive exactly at break time. Early, he'd probably be chastised. Nonetheless, he arrived ten minutes later. Fissure was gone, and Extorque gestured to the metal box on Ambulon's desk.

"Scrooloose's possessions from the hospital," Extorque explained. "They've been signed over to us, so... I'm giving them to you. To do what you will with them."

Ambulon sat down and slowly pulled the box over. He reached inside, removing the Simu-log. He turned it over in his fingers. "Wonder if I should give this back to Tune Out," he mumbled.

"You could donate it?" Extorque suggested. "You said no one was using it. They'd probably throw it back in the closet." He shrugged. "I think Scrooseloose would appreciate you giving the Simu-log to someone less fortunate."

Ambulon nodded. Sounded perfect. He sat the device on the desk, fished back inside the box. Managed to repress a wince at the cold touch of glass. He slowly removed the sperosa flower, glowing in the overhead light. Extorque said nothing, hands behind his back.

"You know," Ambulon said a moment later, and showed the flower to Extorque. "Kickspeed told me in the language of flowers, the sperosa represents hope and miracles." He snorted, amused in a bitter sort of way.

Extorque stared at the sperosa. "He appreciated it, nonetheless. That's all that mattered," he said. "What do you plan to do with it?"

Ambulon... shrugged. "I don't know." He quietly sat the flower down.

Extorque kept his optics locked on the glass rose. "It's a very pretty shade of purple. The darker accents add a lovely touch," he murmured. He went to touch the sperosa, but quickly withdrew his hand. "It reminds me of another type of flower. Very different, however."

Ambulon had a hard time caring. He didn't want to be rude, but... He just didn't care. Not right now, at least. Extorque didn't take offense, however; he understood. The golden medic sighed and stood up straight. "I never did say I was..." he paused, bit his bottom lip. "That you have my condol--"

"What's with Fissure?"

Extorque was surprised by the interruption and topic change. He didn't mind, and settled quickly. "I'm not sure," he answered. "Something to do with his work in Tarn, I guess."

Ambulon frowned. "Sharpshift seems equally on edge," he added.

"That I have no clue," the golden medic replied. "Fissure left about fifteen kliks ago. Didn't tell me where he was going. He still had another half-groon before break, too." He shrugged. "I guess he got permission from Sharpshift."

"Considering his mood, I wouldn't mind him not returning for the rest of the day."

Extorque smirked. "He actually got into an argument with a patient earlier. They didn't like his diagnosis and disagreed to the treatment. Fissure snapped, and the patient ended up leaving nearly in tears." He shook his head. "And I'm not talking some scrawny little mech. This miner was twice his size and height, and he sent him off whimpering and sniffling."

"Vector Sigma..."

"The thing is," Extorque mumbled, and paused a moment. "The thing is, Fissure may usually come off as cheerful and friendly, but he can be... He can be brutal when he wants to." He idly rubbed at his wrist. "He's got a bit of a... dark side to him. That most people don't usually see."

"I'm not that surprised," Ambulon replied. "I always felt there was something off with him. Just didn't know what."

"Just stay on his good side, all right? Don't make him angry," Extorque said, much too firmly, and Ambulon felt as if he were being warned, or even threatened. "Stay out of his way and do as you're told and you won't have to deal with his temper. Okay?"

Ambulon stared. "... Okay."

Extorque visibly relaxed, but there was still tension in his EM field. "Right. So." He gestured to the box. "Thought you might like to keep or do something with Scrooseloose's possessions. His personal belongings on-site are being inspected by Armorshield's men before they decide what to do with them."

"That's normal?"

"Usually when a miner passes away, their belongings are passed onto the nearest city-state," Extorque explained. "Though sometimes they may be auctioned off to other miners."

"What if they have someone they'd like to give their possessions to? What if it's not a miner?"

Extorque blinked. "I'm... not sure. We've not had a case like that before. Most of the miners here stick to themselves, or have no friends outside work. I'm sure if they made a personal request, Armorshield and Sharpshift would take it into consideration."

Ambulon hummed. It didn't really matter, in the end. What good were prizes and treasures, belongings and keepsakes to the dead? He doubt most of the miners cared. Especially if they had no real attachment or value to what they left behind. Nonetheless, he sat back and looked to Extorque. "Break’s coming up, and Zel, Zing, Kickspeed - if he has permission - and I will be visiting Scrooseloose's memorial at Miner's Dirge." A beat. "Do you wish to join us? We'd be leaving about noon."

Extorque looked interested, but that light died a second later. "No," he said, half-smiling, "I'm afraid I can't. I've all ready made arrangements, and..." He looked away. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Ambulon reassured. "We probably won't be there for very long, anyway."

"Well, what are you doing afterward?"

Ambulon blinked. "Probably nothing. Might try finishing a few datalogs."

"You're not going out?" Extorque inquired.

"I don't see why I should."

"You _need_ to get out," the golden medic insisted. "Away from... all of this. Even for just one night. You've earned it." He tilted his head. "I'm sure your friends will be visiting Last Call."

"Is that some sort of bar?"

"A big tavern, yes. Most of the miners spend their free time there. The owners of the bar usually sell them engex half-price, because the scrap's cheap and tastes like garbage and they don't get many patrons outside our mechs anyway."

Ambulon smirked. "Sounds like the miners are their sole source of income."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Extorque chuckled. "It's not as bad as it sounds, however. It's not exactly in the best neighborhood of Tarn, but the place is at least accommodating."

"Will you be going?"

Extorque shook his head. "Afraid not."

"Gonna be real busy, huh?"

"Yup! Unfortunately." Extorque groaned. "It'll just be like any other work day for me."

"Try to take it easy, at least?"

Extorque smiled, weakly. "I doubt that's possible."

\---

At the end of the day, Ambulon finished checking up on his final patient and headed back outside. He drove through the expanse of the massive, deep mines, down to the edges of Sector 6. Slowly braked to a halt before transforming. He studied what remained of once flat land, now buried beneath mounds of rubble and thick slates of dirt.

The rock beneath his feet crunched as he made his way up one tall hill. This wasn't here before. When he reached the top, he looked down. Stood above the now silent faultline; right where Scrooseloose stood before the emergency evacuation. He paced the top of the hill a moment or two, touching new crags of protruding rock.

Ambulon turned, and looked out over the field; not a soul for another half mile. It was... eerily quiet, though he could hear the faint humming of machinery at work down a tunnel leading to Sector 6. When he kicked a few rocks, the sound of their rolling and breaking echoed off the far walls. It was ominous here, the air thick and pungent. It felt like a gravesite, and really, that wasn't far from the truth.

He made his way back down the hill, back to Sector 5. Stopped and turned, facing a giant boulder rolled over. The miner both he, Maceforce, and Scrooseloose tried to save died there. He imagined the moment the boulder was finally pushed off the mech, the officers must have reeled back in shock at the grotesque horror of his flattened midsection, all of his equipment broken and energon and fluids puddling and seeping into the ground. Though now the area had been cleaned away; no sign of death left behind.

Ambulon spotted the pit Maceforce nearly fell through nearby. Looked down inside; could see nothing but darkness. He wasn't sure how deep it was, but knew if he hadn't saved the officer, he'd surely be in a dozen pieces at the very bottom.

There was nothing left of the past before the quake now. No sign of death or injury. Even a spot where Ambulon knew Scrooseloose had bled out was cleaned. Probably hosed down then covered in more rock. He had mentioned the energon was drying out in this section; probably why no one had attempted to put things back in order, tear down the rocks blocking access to their much needed resources.

To think if that was the case, Scrooseloose would have been relocated. Away from the disaster. Might have been a day, might have been a couple. He had one foot out the door when the quake took him out. So very close, and Ambulon imagined how different things would have been. If Scrooseloose wasn't here. Would Ambulon be here, however? Would the miner crushed beneath the boulder still suffer and die? Would Maceforce have fallen to his death?

Ambulon grumbled and massaged his temples. He didn't want to think about it. The past was past, and he could not change that. Still... He shuttered his optics and stared at the spot where a puddle of his friend's blood once soaked. It was hard not to think of the what-ifs and maybes; in their hope and brightness there was also bitterness and pain. He could imagine Scrooseloose surviving the quake due to relocation, but that only hardened his spark.

Ambulon headed back to flat ground, transformed, and drove off.

\---

Two days passed. 

The big break was coming up, and everyone's excitement was showing. Ambulon went about business, as usual. Did his work on the field, and helped out with minor injuries and physicals at the medbay. Fissure had not returned that day after storming off in a bad mood. The next day, however, he came in late, but was back to his chipper self. Neither Extorque or Ambulon bothered to ask what had happened. They knew better. Even Sharpshift seemed calm again.

On the morning of the third day, Ambulon woke an hour later than usual. After he cleaned up and had his energon, he went outside. The place was practically abandoned. A few officers lingered, but for the most part, the mining facility was a ghost town.

"Heya, doc."

Ambulon turned, surprised. "Tune Out? What are you doing here?"

The officer looked a little sour. "Some of us still gotta work, y'know," he replied. "I volunteered to stay."

"That's... a little strange."

Tune Out snorted. "Is it? You think I'm some irresponsible punk, do you?"

"Most of the time," Ambulon answered, calmly, and the officer hissed. "But it doesn't seem like you to pass up a day off work. Like, I'd imagine you'd be in town. Probably with Boulderdash."

"Fah!" Tune Out laughed, snidely.

Ambulon frowned. "So, you two still haven't made up."

"I tried talking to him the other day, but he was all curt, and forget that," the officer scowled, swishing a hand. "I'm done tryin'. If he wants to be a sore loser, let him. I apologized and everything. It's out of my hands now."

"You think so?"

"I know so!" Tune Out huffed. He drooped a little. "Though, I kinda miss his company... But I mean!" He quickly bolted upright again. "He's the one who won't let it go!"

"Give him a little more time." Ambulon then cursed. "Ah, wait... I promised I'd talk to him for you, didn't I?"

Tune Out shrugged. "S'okay, doc. You've been busy lately. And... I'm sorry about Scroo." He frowned, sadly. "I wanted to come give you my condolences but I just got so busy. And I didn't wanna bug you, so..."

"It's fine," the medic reassured. "A few friends and I are going to visit his memorial site. Pay our last respects."

Tune Out smiled, warmly. "Sounds like a good idea. Wish I could come." He kicked away a pebble. "But fraggin' gotta stay here all day. Armorshield would just tell me no if I tried to back out of my post, anyway."

"You're not alone, however. You have friends to talk to?"

"Maceforce is here," Tune Out replied. "He wanted to go out, but got stuck on guard duty, the poor sap." He bent forward, grinning deviously. "He was hopin' to buy you a drink at Last Call. You sure got yourself a fan, doc."

"He knows he doesn't have to repay me," Ambulon scowled.

"Maybe," Tune Out agreed. "But, hey. Maybe he just likes you? Wants to be your friend, too."

"Afraid I'm not very interesting."

"You're interesting _enough_."

"Well, _thank you_ , Tune Out."

The officer laughed. "I'm playin' with you, doc," he assured, and slapped Ambulon on the shoulder. The medic continued glowering. "Oh, don't go all Dash on me now!"

"I'm not--" Ambulon sighed. He raised his hands. "Okay. Okay. I'll talk to Boulderdash tomorrow. Help you guys work things out."

Tune Out beamed. "Aw, thanks, doc!"

"You still got that camera?"

Tune Out blinked before swinging his hands behind his back. "Yeah," he said, quickly adding after the pointed look, "but I told you! I can't return it! I could try and pawn it, sure, but I won't make nearly as much back on the fragging thing. So, why not keep it? I'm not gonna use it around Dash, anyway."

"What are you going to use it for, then?"

"I don't know." Tune Out's optics glimmered. "Spying?"

Ambulon snorted. "Right."

Tune Out sighed, loudly. "Better get back to my post before 'Shield finds me out here."

"Wait, you're not--"

"I wanted to say 'hi', okay?"

"Get back to work!"

\---

Ambulon had returned to his quarters to finish off a few medical datalogs. He'd just about finished one before there came a loud tap-tap-tap to his door. He stood, and not even three seconds later, there was a loud, brutal pounding. "What the Pit?" Ambulon scowled and quickly opened the door.

Zing squealed, nearly smacking Ambulon with his fists. Zel yanked him back; Kickspeed stepped aside, watching boredly as his friend flew back and nearly hit the far wall.

"Sorry 'bout 'im, luv," Zel smirked. 

Zing jumped back to his feet, in between his miner buddies. "Ya ready t'go, doc?" he asked, brushing off his chestplates. He seemed relatively excited, which was a little odd. Zel was smiling warmly per usual, and Kickspeed, despite receiving the okay to leave the facility, still looked gloomy.

Ambulon nodded. "Yes," he replied, raised a finger. "Just let me get something real quick."

\---

The four drove to Miner's Dirge memorial grounds. It wasn't very far from the hospital, and took about twenty minutes to reach. Ambulon's headlights cast a curious glow on the open gates of the cemetery. Zing took lead, and they drove in a single file into the graveyard.

Neat, organized, tightly-knit rows of small, metal pillars lined up in patches separated by aisles. Ambulon was surprised by the sheer number. Miner's Dirge had to be at least an acre wide, and by the warning signs at its far edges, it was still under construction. They seemed to be the only living people around, save its groundskeeper, a tall, wispy-thin mech wandering about. He paid them no mind, gave them their privacy.

Once they reached the far end of the cemetery, they braked, transforming. New additions were being gathered in a patch, still making room for at least twenty more memorial pillars. Ambulon instantly spotted Scrooseloose's grave; the metal pillar was still glossy, fresh, unlike the old, slightly rusting ones the made up most of the cemetery.

Zel, Zing, and Kickspeed stayed back, giving Ambulon a moment. He approached the memorial pillar, stopped a few feet before it. A hologram projected from a small slit at the center of the pillar, stating both the miner's designation as well as birth and death dates. Ambulon frowned at his name - M-36 - and felt a slight heat of irritation curl around his spark.

Calming himself, Ambulon opened the compartment on his hip. Slowly produced the dark purple sperosa. There wasn't much room between the dirt and gravel of the road, but Ambulon dug up a small hole, just enough to put the flower inside and keep it standing upright. Fortunately, the sperosa would never fade.

"...honest, probably gonna get stolen."

"Shuddup, Kickspeed."

Ambulon pretended he hadn't overheard Zel and Kickspeed's hushed arguing. He wouldn't be surprised if the flower was stolen, either. He didn't see much in way of trinkets and gifts in the cemetery.

After another moment, the three joined Ambulon.

Zel bowed his head in respect. "May 'e be soarin' wif the stars naow."

Kickspeed said nothing, just stared blankly at the pillar.

"Hey, that ain't fair!" Zing huffed, and all eyes fell on him. "They put his miner designation on here! Wouldn't ya think they'd be nice enough t'put the name he used and liked instead?"

"S'pose they dinnit know," Zel offered.

Kickspeed added: "Or cared."

Zel bopped him on the head.

"They need to keep the place organized," Ambulon said. "They stick to official stats."

Zing snorted. "Well, we ain't havin' none of that." He leaned forward, eyeing the space above the hologram. Ambulon stared at him, confused. "'Ey, Zel. You got sharper fingers than me." He pointed to the pillar. "You do it."

Zel seemed just as baffled, but it hit him a second later, and he beamed. "Eh, why not!" Chortling, he waddled forward. Flicking out one index finger, he pressed the semi-pointed tip to the metal, and began to carve. Ambulon jumped, and even Kickspeed looked mildly surprised.

"What are you doing!?" Ambulon hissed.

"Givin' Scroo the proper respect he deserves!" Zing insisted. Zel grumbled as he slowly carved out a jagged 'S' glyph.

"That's vandalizing!" the medic squawked. He spun around, looking for the groundskeeper. Fortunately, the old mech was clear across the graveyard. "Stop it!" Ambulon grabbed at Zel's arm, tugged it.

"Ain't no use stoppin' now, luv," Zel smirked, "I jus' made the 'r'. Might as well finish, 'ey?"

"Yeah, or otherwise it's gonna look awkward."

"It's S - C - R - O - O - S - E, right?"

"They'll probably replace the entire pillar!"

"Nah. Too much work. They probably won't even notice." With a mumble, Zel closed the first 'o' glyph.

"Still, you can't... you can't just do this!"

"Careful, Zel, yer writin' too big. Ain't gonna have enough room."

"Well, then, we 'yphenate it, yea?"

"You two!"

Zing looked back at the medic. "C'mon, doc," he said, pleading. "You know Scrooseloose wouldn't mind. He'd probably be flattered." He frowned. "It's the least we can do, right?"

"Lissun up," Zel said, working on the 'l'. "If I 'appen t'die before ya lot, ya better come 'ere an' write me name on me pillar, too."

Zing laughed. "Yeah, sure. Want me t'learn ancient Cybertronian so I can make it all fancy an' stuff?"

"Yar too dumb to learn Primal Vernacular.”

"Aw, screw you, numbbolts!"

Ambulon was just... shocked. He could say nothing more. Zel wasn't going to stop. He'd nearly finished carving in Scrooseloose's name, anyway. He slowly turned to Kickspeed standing beside him. "You know," he said, quietly, over the taunting and cackling, "you didn't have to come. Zing and Zel wouldn't have forced you."

"I know," Kickspeed replied, simply.

Ambulon wasn't sure what to make of that, so he just went back to watching the two miners vandalize the pillar.

A minute later, Zel stepped back, brushing off his hands. "There! That outta do et!" he snickered, admiring his work.

Zing traced the 'l' glyph. "This is a bit crooked."

"It is not!"

"Yeah, an' so is the third 'o'."

"Oi!"

Ambulon sighed and moved between them. "Well, it's too late now," he said. He pointed to the pillar, Scrooseloose's name written somewhat sloppily above the hologram. "What's done is done."

Zing reached up and placed a hand on Zel's shoulder. "Jus' kiddin', buddy," he said, "it looks really good."

"Bloody right."

"So, like, what do we do now?" Zing asked, turning to the others.

"We say a few words. Our final farewells," Ambulon replied, slowly letting the irritation fade.

"Right! That!" Zing clapped his hands, grinned. "Who wants to go first?"

Zel shot up a hand. "I will!"

"Go fer it, windbag."

"Shut yar hole, glitchy." Zel shuffled back up to the pillar and gave it a hearty pat. "Y'did good, luv. Dinnit know ya really well - Pit, not much at all - but any friend-a Ambulon's is a friend o' mine. Bless ya, mate, 'ope the afterlife's better'en this pithole." He stepped back. "Short, sweet, an' simple. 'Ow 'bout that?"

"It was nice," Ambulon agreed, sincere.

"Should I go next?" Zing offered. Without confirmation, he shuffled up to the pillar, spread his hands, opened his mouth and-- Drooped. "... I can't think of anythin'," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Tha's a first!"

"Frag off!" Zing stomped a foot. "It's just I didn't know Scroo and never really talked to him, so what do I say?"

"It's all right," Ambulon reassured, hands raised. "You don't need to say anything. I'm sure he appreciates all you've done. Even the graffiti."

Zing smiled, crookedly. "Shucks." He glanced to Kickspeed, pointing. "I know Grumpspeed here ain't got nothin' to say, so what about you, doc?" He turned back to Ambulon. "Got a eulogy prepped?"

Ambulon looked from Zing to Scrooseloose's burial pillar. "... Goodbye," he said.

Zing blinked. "That's... it?"

"There's nothing more to say," Ambulon replied, shrugging. "Except, I'm sorry it had to end this way." He shook his head. "But I'd rather leave here still on a relatively good note. We can mourn him, but if we dwell on the past and all the could-have-beens, we'd only make things worse." He folded his arms and looked to the sperosa. "That's not what he'd want."

Zing hummed. "Well," he said, gently now, "you knew him best, doc."

"Maybe.”

"If there's a world beyond Cybertron where the energy of our extinguished sparks go t'be free," Kickspeed added, and the curt edge in his tone softened a little, "then I'm sure he's happy there."

The group spent another minute or two at the gravesite in complete, comfortable silence. No words were necessary, anyway.

When it was time to go, Ambulon lingered behind. The others had transformed and started off. He turned back to Scrooseloose's pillar. Looked between the hologram and the name carved in the metal. Quietly, he reached over, and with some effort, carved in the second 'e' glyph Zel forgot to add.

\---

The group made their way back to the mines. Zing had suggested stopping in town for a drink, but Kickspeed had been given a groon of time outside to visit the cemetery under Ambulon's care. By the time they arrived at the facility, Kickspeed had only fifteen minutes left.

Kickspeed went on ahead, waved them off.

"What're you gonna do?" Zing asked, feeling sorry for the kid.

Kickspeed shrugged. "I'll figure somethin' out."

"Should ya be alone?"

"Ain't no one here but the guards."

"I'll be fine," Kickspeed reassured. He turned and left, making his way inside.

Zing and Zel looked to one another, then back to Ambulon.

"You stayin' 'ere, luv?" Zel asked.

"I've got to run some errands," Ambulon replied.

Zing sighed, shoulders going slack. "Sparklin'-sittin' duty."

"What do you mean?"

"We cannae leave Kicker 'ere by 'imself. Not even wif the guards around," Zel explained. "So... Guess we'll stay wif 'im. Maybe Zing can try an' show off ta 'im wit' all 'is fake stories o' bravery an' action."

Zing laughed and pointed at his friend. "Yea! An' you can bore him wit' all yer scrap on the past like the old codger you are!"

"I think we'll all 'ave fun!" Zel laughed and put Zing in a headlock, half-playfully nuzzling his fist into his head. The smaller mech gasped and writhed, but didn't seem to be in any real pain. Zel shoved him away a second later. "So, go on an' run yar errands, luv. We'll be fine."

"Be careful in Tarn, doc," Zing said, rubbing his sore head. "It ain't a pretty town. Lotsa creeps an' weirdos out there."

Ambulon snorted. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

Zing threw up his hands. "Hey, hey," he said, "juuuus' sayin'."

"I'll be fine."

"You better!" Zing ordered, lingering after Kickspeed. "We don’t wanna get another new doctor to replace yer aft!" He gave the medic a serious, squinty-eyed look before disappearing inside.

Zel smirked. "'E's right, y'know," he said. "Are ya gonna visit Last Call?"

Ambulon shrugged. "I might."

Zel nodded. "Well, if ya dew," he paused to shell out a few credits, offer them to Ambulon, "pick me an' Zing up-a Fizz t'go. Jus' tell the bartender wot I said, 'e'll know wot I'm tawkin' aboot."

Ambulon took the credits, looked at them. "I'll see what I can do," he replied. "But I make no promises."

"S'fine. Jus' in case ya go. But if ya dunt, I want me credits back."

Ambulon smirked. "I make no promises."

\---

Ambulon had only intended to visit Tarn to donate Scrooseloose's Simu-log to the library. Figured it wouldn't take long. However, he found the library was more toward the heart of the city. The drive was nearly an hour and a half. Not that he minded much. In fact, Ambulon got to do some sightseeing.

The outskirts and rough edges of Tarn were mostly slums and urban decay. It felt wilted and frayed and tired. The streets were worn and cracked, the buildings rusted and rotting to time and the elements. There was a maze of streets and alleyways; Ambulon would have gotten lost if not for his map. There were sections of the neighborhood that looked abandoned, whereas some parts appeared heavily populated, residents hustling and bustling about, going on with their usual lives.

It was all rather dumpish, in fact, and Ambulon could understand Zing's concern. Sticking to the main road still felt like driving down a dark alley. There were a few mechs - Empties, by the looks of them - watching the medic drive by with a grim expression on their tired faces. As if they were assessing him, deciding if he was worth the mugging.

Not that Ambulon was really scared. He'd driven past a number of patrol cars. Supposed it made sense there'd be a lot of officers in this part of town.

However, further into his drive, Ambulon made his way deeper into the city, leaving the ghetto behind. Scenery changed almost instantly. There were more buildings, all well kept; the streets nice and clean. Numerous citizens walked about, carefree, and they looked so different from their less fortunate neighbors. Giant vidscreens hovered above, playing news and media clips. Stores in droves lined along streets. More buildings rose like titans from the city, and Ambulon supposed this was Tarn's crown.

Ambulon had almost thought the entire city-state of Tarn was in trashy condition. Still, he felt much safer in this part of town. He transformed and made his way down the sidewalk; traffic grew heavier and heavier, and walking just seemed easier. It was a little odd, and he definitely felt out of place; like a weed in a rose garden. A few mechs cast him weary looks; he was in no way polished, still a bit dirty, the patch around his arm still in need of repainting.

Not that Ambulon really cared. He wasn't here to impress anyone. The stroll was nice; the atmosphere felt lighter. Less polluted. His vents sucked in the clean air hungrily. Though it did cause some lightheadedness. Ambulon weaved through the crowds, looking up at the hovering viewscreens every minute or two. A news clip on the Iacon bombing, a rather bored, fatigued looking Tarnian Senator addressing his people, an advertisement for a special brand of engex...

The Tarnian Library was rather large, and Ambulon felt a slight sting in his spark at how excited Scrooseloose would have been to see the place for himself. He went inside, glanced around - walls covered in datalogs, high off the ground, mechs scattered left and right, contentedly reading in the calm silence. It was breathtaking.

However, Ambulon chose rather to drop off the Simu-log quickly and leave. He'd come back later, when things weren't so... complicated.

A clerk met him for the donation, and they spoke briefly. "Wait," he said, suddenly, and Ambulon looked up, curious. The clerk was fussing with the Simu-log. "This is broken."

Ambulon blinked. "Broken?"

The clerk showed him the databox, quickly unscrewing the top. Ambulon widened his optics at the damaged circuitry within. "Seems it overloaded, fried its memory core," the clerk explained, shaking his head. "Shame. This is a new model, too."

"What could have caused it to overload?"

"Uploading a file that takes up a considerable amount of memory, most likely."

"Can you repair it?"

"It's possible," the clerk replied, "but I'm not sure if it's worth it." He sat the broken Simu-log aside. "In any case, we'll make use of it." He smiled.

Ambulon nodded. "Right. Thanks for your time."

"We hope to see you again soon."

Ambulon left the library, still a bit confused.

"I thought I'd find you here."

The medic looked up, even more confused now. Extorque stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling softly at him. "Extorque? What are you doing here?" Ambulon asked, making his way to his side.

Extorque pointed down the street. "Tarnian Science Academy is about half a megamile from here," he explained. "I go there on my days off, help out if I can." He showed his colleague a datalog. "In return, they let me borrow supplies. This is a copy of Sir Ventilator's new viral findings on Cheyne."

"Ventilator? He's the one who wrote the-- Wait!" It hit Ambulon then. "I just found out the Simu-log is broken. The clerk said it overloaded and burnt out its memory core. And then I remember you gave Scrooseloose a datalog you said was rather big."

Extorque frowned. "Yeah," he confessed. "I just didn't think it would cause the Simu-log to break. But I didn't know it was broken, mind you, otherwise I would have just disposed of it."

Ambulon shrugged. "Well, they said they'd make some use out of it."

"I'm sure they can repair it." Extorque paused, face falling a little. "How was it?"

"As nice as one can expect visiting a memorial site," Ambulon replied. "The place was kind of pathetic, to be honest. But..." He almost didn't want to tell Extorque, but relented with a sigh. "Zel carved Scrooseloose's name into his pillar."

Extorque snerked.

"I told him to stop! But he wouldn't listen!"

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it," Extorque snickered, swishing a hand. "Unfortunately, you're right. Miner's Dirge is pretty pitiful. No one will notice or care about the graffiti."

Ambulon frowned. "Is that really a good thing, though?" His colleague winced and looked away. Ambulon felt bad, just a little. "So, where are you heading now?" he asked, quickly.

Extorque hummed. "I was thinking..." He looked back to Ambulon. "You want to go to Last Call with me?"

"The tavern?" Ambulon cocked a brow. "I thought you were too busy?"

"I've got some time to spare," Extorque replied. He grinned, wryly. "Besides, even if it tastes like slag, who can pass up cheap engex?"

\---

The drive back seemed much shorter and quicker. Probably because the streets weren't choked with traffic and pedestrians. Both Ambulon and Extorque were comfortable in silence, felt no need to converse constantly on their drive to the tavern. Every once and a while Ambulon would ask a question about the city, or Extorque would make an observation in correlation with his virology interests.

When they pulled up to the tavern, Ambulon was surprised to find it wasn't nearly as much of a dive as he expected. It was kept relatively clean and well-lit, with the name LAST CALL in bright, neon letters above the entrance doors. "It's their attempt to attract customers. Make the place seem a little more flashy," Extorque smirked, leading Ambulon inside. "Doesn't really work for the locals, but..."

The doors opened, and Ambulon winced at the array of loud noises. He could see dozens of miners at the tables and bars; it was nearly completely packed. Only a few stragglers and regulars present, and they either looked annoyed by the boisterous miners or quite used to it. The place was done up in bright, catchy colors with abstract, though cheap paintings on the walls. Two viewscreens hung from opposite ends of the bar, one playing the news, another blasting music.

Extorque gestured him to follow. "Over here!" he almost shouted. "It's quieter here!"

The two moved to the back of the tavern, managing to find seats at the edge of the bar. Mostly due to the small size, unaccommodating to most of the large, heavy miners. The two bartenders on duty were busy filling orders, so they waited.

"So, what do you think of Tarn so far?" Extorque asked, sitting forward.

"It's interesting, I suppose," Ambulon replied. "When I drove further into town, it felt like I was in a whole new world."

"Yeah," Extorque smirked. "This part of town isn't the best. But I assure you, most of Tarn is pretty nice."

"Maybe next holiday I'll have to do some more exploring."

"Sounds great!" Extorque looked up, just as a bartender finished an order. He shot up his hand, waved him over.

The bartender immediately hurried over, grinning. "Welcome ta Last Call, y'all! I'm yer host fer the eve'nin, Mixer." He pointed to the tag on his chestplate. "What can I getcha’all?"

"I'll have the House Blend," Extorque replied. He looked to Ambulon. "You should probably start with one, too. Adjust to the quality here." Though he didn't mean to offend, Mixer snorted.

Ambulon shrugged. "Whatever, as long as it's not too strong," he said. "My first time here, so I don't really know what you--"

"Yer first time, ya say!?" Mixer shouted, and much, _much_ too loudly. As if it were a-- Ambulon winced as the second bartender and a waiter came rushing over. Yup, a signal. The three stood together and sang in complete, surprisingly on-key unison, "Welcome new patron, welcome to Last Call! Please enjoy our drinks, but we don't pick yer drunk aft up if ya fall! Here you'll find all the best Tarn has to offer! Hard liquors down to something softer! The best eats that can't be beat nowhere else on these streets! If there's somethin' you need, our friendly staff you can badger! But be rude with an attitude or leave no tip, then get out, you Pitspawned fragger!"

It was a ridiculously cheesy little welcome song, and Ambulon was torn between amusement and wanting to crawl under the bar and die. People were laughing and pointing or clapping and singing along. The three finished with cheering, before the waiter reached over and slapped something on Ambulon's chest. The medic blinked and looked down; it was a small magnetic charm, a gold (colored) orb with the initials L. C. carved in the middle. The waiter and second bartender quickly scuttled back off to work.

"What's this?" Ambulon asked, touching the cheap trinket.

"Jus' like a fresh keg, you've officially been tapped!" Mixer laughed.

Now Ambulon just felt like dying. Extorque was trying not to burst out cackling, hand over his mouth as he looked away. "Lemme fill yer orders, an' I'll be right back!" the bartender said and hurried off.

Ambulon looked from the badge to Extorque, whose shoulders were trembling from all the pent up laughter. "You knew they were going to do that, didn't you?" Ambulon snapped. Extorque finally heaved forward and let loose his cackles. "You slag-eating glitch!"

Extorque finished off his giggling and sat back. "You needed it," he insisted, smiling.

"You know, when we first met, I swore you were going to be the most uptight, no-nonsense jerk I'd ever have the displeasure of working with," Ambulon explained, and his coworker sniggered again, "but now I see that you are just utterly ridiculous."

"I simply separate business from pleasure, that's all."

Mixer returned with the drinks.

"Is this free?" Ambulon asked, pointing to his mug.

"Why?"

"Well, since I'm new and all, I just figured..." Ambulon felt a little embarrassed now.

Mixer smiled, coyly. "Cheap don't mean free," he snorted and went back to work.

Ambulon elbowed Extorque in the side before he could burst out laughing again. He took a small sip of the engex first, and... was glad he did. "Yeah, this is..." He tipped the mug down, scrutinizing the dark purple liquid inside. "It's not very good."

"But it's not too strong and it'll get you buzzed," Extorque helped. He pulled his mug over and raised it to his coworker. "And maybe, just maybe, it'll help drown out a few sorrows."

"Some addictions start that way, you know."

"Sometimes it's the _only_ way to take care of things."

Ambulon shrugged. He raised his glass, then knocked back a hard swallow.

\---

Over the hour, Ambulon and Extorque spent their time conversing about anything and everything. Though about half-way through the two began discussing work and patients. Plans, treatments, procedures, as if they were in a meeting in the middle of a bar. It didn't occur to them, however, because they were both fascinated and deeply engrossed with their work. They gossiped about their patients, occasionally stopped to point one out then snicker about something or other. They both knew it was immature and a bit unprofessional, but no one was paying them any mind, and the engex was starting to kick in.

Ambulon found the more buzzed and closer to drunk he got, the better the awful engex tasted. It wasn't too strong; just perfect. He was all ready on his second mug at the half hour point. Knew he should take it slow, but... The logical part of his mind was quiet now, sitting back and forced to endure the ride, while emotions, bitter, surly, sorrowful little things, insisted he chug the engex down until he felt nothing at all. No emotion, no logic, just dumb freedom.

Extorque, however, was all ready on his _fourth_. Probably just as stressed. He'd been taking care of Scrooseloose, lost his patient. Ambulon couldn't blame him for wanting to run away from reality for a while. He knew this certainly wasn't the healthy or proper way to do it, but... Well, no logic, no emotions. Nothing.

Extorque was in the middle of explaining some intricate form of spark surgery when Ambulon's attention began to wander. He wasn't drunk, but most definitely buzzed. Nothing like the night at Better Then Nothin. Just... comfortably numb and slightly fuzzy-minded. He looked around the bar as his colleague lost himself in his story. A few miners had come and gone, and the regulars from before had long since returned home. Hadn't they just been here an hour? It felt like just an hour, but his chronometer surprised him.

Ambulon spotted Boulderdash across the tavern. He was sitting in a ring with three other miners, all playing cards. They were muttering and grunting, and seemed to be having a good time? But something was off with Boulderdash. A certain glow in those orange optics missing. Even tipsy, Ambulon knew it was because of Tune Out. Whether he missed his friend or was still nursing his wounded pride, he didn't know, and didn't care to. Not tonight, but tomorrow, maybe. He promised he'd talk to the old, stubborn miner sometime.

"Borin' you, huh?"

Ambulon jumped slightly in his seat and turned to Extorque. "No," he reassured. "Just got a little distracted there."

"What's wrong?" Extorque asked, suddenly concerned.

Ambulon hadn't expected that reaction. "Nothing. Is something wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Extorque grumbled. "What? Do I sound like something's wrong with me?"

"No." But he did sound defensive enough.

Extorque snorted. "S'right. Nothin's wrong," he muttered into his drink.

"Mm." Ambulon looked to the screen across the room, watched the news play for a minute. "It looks like the police might have found a suspect for the bombings?"

Extorque looked up, rubbing his optics. "That so?" He squinted at the screen. "Well, good on them. Hope they find the fragger an' lock him up for good." He skirted his palm along the bar. "Ship him right off! To Garrus-1."

Ambulon nodded. Extorque nodded as well. He looked to his drink, back to Ambulon, then slowly back to his engex. "... You know... You know some orns ago, um... I told you I knew somebody who went to Garrus-1?" he asked, carefully.

Ambulon reclined his head. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well..." Extorque stared at his watery reflection in his glass. "I do, but I don't? I mean, we've spoken a few times. You know, through messages. But we really don't... know each other very well." He shyly met Ambulon's curious gaze. "Nailbolt. That's his name. Nailbolt. And he's, uh... He's--was--Tightclinch's sparktwin." He looked away again, took a slow drink.

Ambulon blinked. "Sparktwin? Like... A _real_ sparktwin?"

"Yeah. Spark split in half after Vector Sigma spit it out." The golden medic sniffed. "Tightclinch and Nailbolt were really close. Went to medical school together. But, I guess Nailbolt had a bit of a temper annnnd..."

"What?"

"Well, he landed himself on Garrus-1, so it couldn't have been very pretty." Extorque shrugged. "Honestly, he never went into detail or told me exactly what happened. Just... people got hurt. _Really bad _."__

"That's... not good."

"S'probably why he didn't want to tell me," Extorque smirked. "But they were close. Even in prison, Tightclinch still sent him letters and gifts. Nailbolt always replied. I helped Tightclinch write up a letter when he was ill, and I dunno, we just started talking. Can't really explain it. But I sent a message or two to Nailbolt when his brother couldn't." He laughed. "I mean, sure, the guy is definitely a little damaged, but he's a pretty brilliant mech."

"Do you still talk to him?" Ambulon inquired.

Extorque stared at his drink. "... Not really," he mumbled. "Not since his brother died."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not like I just... stopped talking to him. I mean, I was the one who had to send him the news," Extorque explained, sighing. "I sent him the message, and never received a response. I was informed by a jailer that Nailbolt most definitely got it, but just... Had nothing to say."

Ambulon frowned. "He must have known before you sent message. That... His brother died, I mean. Sparktwins, don't they share a type of special connection. Empathic?”

"Not all of them, no. Some sparktwins simply share part of one spark and that's all. Some sparktwins aren't so fortunate, suffering from proximity pains: if separated from their twin for too long or at a certain distance, they literally began to feel physical pain that can manifest in spark palpitations, or worse.”

Ambulon winced.

"I hear some gestalt mates have that problem, but it's rare."

"Knowing your life is literally in someone else's hands..." Ambulon shivered and knocked back his drink. "I do know that there have been a few cases where one twin dies, and the other can be in perfect condition and excellent health, but die as well. As if the spark cannot survive without its second, detached half."

"Tightclinch and Nailbolt had it rather easy. Nothing so dire, nothing like proximity pain or an empathic connection," Extorque said. "So, I doubt Nailbolt really... felt... anything, when Tightclinch died."

"That's for the best then," Ambulon mumbled, bowing his head.

"I can't... I can't imagine. How hard it must have been. For him." Extorque wrapped his hands around his drink, pulling it close. "Losing his brother, his twin, his other half. Not only that, but... A genuinely good mech." He stared into his half-empty mug. "Tightclinch was very warm, very friendly; kind and considerate, I told him if he kept being so soft with everyone, he'd become a doormat. But he just laughed it off. He laughed a lot, you know?" He chuckled, sinking forward. "Oooh, he loved to laugh. Always laughed at jokes - even really stupid ones. Sometimes I think he just laughed so as not to upset anyone."

Ambulon nodded. He sounded nice, but he didn't say anything. Extorque all ready knew. So, he sat there and listened.

"But the entire time I knew him, he seemed completely incapable of raising his voice or getting angry. Like, I think he'd _explode_ if he were ever _mildly perturbed_. Which is Primus fraggin' unbelievable, considering we work in a Pithole!" Extorque snorted, throwing up his hands. "But he never complained, either. He never once complained to me or to anyone. He liked working in the mines because he respected the miners and felt like giving back to them. He would have done _so much better_ staying in Vos, but no. No, wanted to become a good, humble old country doctor." He snickered, grinning all his teeth. "His bleeding spark, you know, sometimes it made me want to _puke_." 

Ambulon lowered his mug. He could feel tension rippling through Extorque's EM field. But what to say--

"I mean, sometimes his nauseating endless positivity just made me want to punch his headlights out," Extorque giggled. "Like, seriously? Who in the Pit can be so fraggin' happy all the time? I know Tightclinch got angry and sad and hurt and all that slag, but he was damn good at disguising it. I don't know why he did, though; I mean, sure, I do, but-- Not all the time, you know? He knew he was free to vent and whine at me, but he never did. He listened to me, though; _always_ listened to me. But he never asked for me to return the favor, no matter how much I offered." He tilted his head. "So, I begun to think, maybe I'm not good enough? Maybe I've done something wrong? Maybe _I'm_ too emotional. You know?"

Ambulon shook his head. "I know you're upset, but I think--"

"I'm not upset!" Extorque spat, and his coworker twitched. "I'm trying to make a point here, Ambulon! Will you just... listen?" He glowered, his optics lit wild and bright, and Ambulon was forced to sit there and stay quiet and wait the storm out. Sighing, Extorque visibly relaxed again, just a little. He continued, "Tightclinch was always so damn positive and always smiling and, Primus, it was just ridiculous. But then..." His optics narrowed, frowning pulling back tight and firm. "Then, one day, Tightclinch... isn't so bright and cheery. Sure, he's still smiling and everything, but it's an act. It took me a while to figure this out, you know. Figure out that for nearly a deca-cycle, he'd been miserable and depressed." 

Extorque laughed, softly, massaging a temple. "When my slow CPU caught up and I asked him what was bothering him, he, naturally, played it off as nothing. It sort of upset me, you know? As if he insulted my intelligence, and our friendship. I told him that. He actually frowned then, much to my astonishment, and said it was 'private affairs'. And I couldn't believe it!" He slammed his hands on the bar, mug nearly tipping over. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying attention and the bartenders were busy. 

"I thought we were pretty much what you'd consider best friends. Here I was helping him write letters to his _convict of a brother_ , but he... couldn't tell me what was bothering him? Why he was so depressed? Just that it was _private_?" Extorque spat the word. "So, I started... I started backing off. Started giving him the 'cold shoulder'. That--That look you know the one the one I gave you when we first met all the damn time-- I gave him that look. And I knew it hurt him. And because I was hurt, I didn't care. I didn't care that I was probably only making life worse for him."

"Extorque, you need--"

"Hear me out here!" Extorque snarled, and grabbed Ambulon tightly by the arm, forcing him in place. "For the longest time I've told myself it was simply an accident. That there was no way... There had to be no fragging way... That accident in the mines. The bombing that orn. It'd been planned in advance for deca-cycles; no one was to go down there. Be down there. When they set the bombs off. Broke through more of that disgusting energon bloated dirt; that’s why they were bombing. But... How could-- Why would he..." He swallowed, throat suddenly tight. "It doesn't make any sense. Why was he down there? He knew about the bombing, _he knew_. But he was down there - why?" Extorque sat forward, shaking Ambulon's arm, looking scared and confused and pleading. " _Why was he down there?_ "

"Extorque, come on," Ambulon said, firmly, and managed to loosen the mech's hand from his arm. He stood, quickly depositing credits on the bar. "We need to go. You're overcharged and you need to rest."

"Please just _listen to me_!" Extorque heaved, and nearly threw himself on Ambulon. Ambulon held him out at arm's length, but yet the golden medic's face was still inches from his. "Before the accident - before he died - he told me one thing. _One thing only_ , and nothing more." His optics shimmered. "'You do terrible things for the ones you love. Terrible, no good things. If you're strong enough, you can accept this. If you're strong enough.' He said nothing else. Nothing. And he wouldn't tell me why."

Mixer suddenly appeared. "Hey, you two. Remember what we said? We ain't gonna pick yer drunk afts up if y'all fall. An' we certainly ain't gonna tolerate no fightin' of any sort." He pointed to the door. "We're gonna have to ask y'all t'leave before ya go an' start disturbin' the peace, okay?"

"No problem," Ambulon reassured, slinging an arm around the quiet medic's shoulders. "We were just leaving."

Ambulon helped Extorque outside, cool wind greeting them. The doors shut, turning the noises from within into an unintelligible blur of sound. "It's late. We need to head back," Ambulon said, walking his colleague to the street. "I think I can carry you on--"

"No," Extorque growled, abruptly jerking aside. He took Ambulon with him, and the two swayed, nearly fell, before Ambulon forced them back upright. "I don't needa be... be carried. Like some stupid patient..."

"You're overcharged. You can't drive back."

"Then leave me here." Extorque looked away, lips pursed. "I'll stay here 'til my CPU clears."

Ambulon scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not leaving you." He tugged Extorque closer. "It's no trouble. Let me give you a ride."

"No!" Extorque snarled and finally summoned enough strength to break free. He started in a brisk march down the street. "Not going to be carried!"

Ambulon widened his optics and quickly followed him. "You are being an immature brat," he hissed once beside him, both stomping in tandem down the desolate street. "Come on." He reached out and grabbed Extorque's wrist, squeezed. "I don't care if you don't like it--"

"Leggo!" Extorque squawked and went to shove his coworker aside. Ambulon quickly twisted his wrist behind his back, and the golden medic squealed in pain. "Wh--What the Pit, Ambulon!?"

"You need to stop right now and listen to me," Ambulon growled. "Will you do that?" It wasn't really a question. Extorque nodded reluctantly, and Ambulon let him go. The medic jumped to a stand, whipped around, rubbing his sore arm. "Sorry. I didn't want to get physical."

"More surprised you had it in you," Extorque mumbled.

"A trick Zing taught me."

Extorque huffed. "Seriously, I'll just go back with one of the miners later," he insisted.

"Why? Why won't you let me drive you back to the facility? You think you're going to look silly riding on top of me?"

"No," Extorque murmured, bowing his head.

Ambulon was surprised he was being honest. "So, then, why not?"

"I just... I don't..." Extorque gave a frustrated sigh. He scrubbed his face in his hands. "I'm such an idiot, y'know? You jus' lost a friend an' I was hopin' takin' you out would maybe make you feel better but then I went-- then I went and go all... all... And it's so embarrassing!" His hands tightened into fists, wanting desperately to hit something. Mostly himself.

"It's fine," Ambulon reassured, "it's been a hard day for a lot of us. He was your patient, too."

"But he wasn't my _friend_ ," Extorque growled. His colleague remained quiet. "He was your friend. He was important to you. I knew that, I knew that." He grabbed at his head again, heaving. "So, why am I so angry? Why do I feel--feel--feel..." He turned, suddenly, shoving the heel of his foot into a waste bin. It crunched and fell over, spilling garbage.

"Extorque, settle down!" Ambulon snapped. He yanked the golden medic back from stomping on the poor bin.

Extorque turned, hands on Ambulon's shoulders, tight and shaking. Ambulon twitched, and could see Extorque's optics were burning. "I'm really sorry, Ambulon. I'm just... I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"No," Extorque breathed, and the corners of his frown started twitching, pulling back into something anguished and pitiful. "You don't understand... I'm _so sorry_." His voice wavered, and tears of coolant prickled at the corners of his optics. "I'm so so so _so sorry_ ," he half-choked, dropping his head. His shoulders started to shake in a silent sob, his fingers digging into Ambulon's plating.

Ambulon wasn't sure what to do, what to say. Equally confused and concerned. He carefully took Extorque's hands from off his shoulders - which was quite easy, fortunately. "We need to go," he said, quietly, calmly. Extorque whimpered something. "You'll let me drive you?" The golden mech nodded, weakly. "Okay." Ambulon stepped back, ready to transform. "Just do as I say and--"

Both medics bolted upright at the sudden, high pitched shriek coming from the alley behind them. They looked to one another; following shortly, the distinct sound of a plasma rifle discharging a blast. "Stay here," Ambulon ordered, holding a hand out to Extorque. He quickly darted back to the alley; had no intentions of engaging in whatever was happening, but if someone was hurt, and it was one of his men...

Ambulon peeked down the alley, optics bulging. A short distance away two mechs were circling a large miner. A third was on the ground, rubbing his dislocated jaw. The miner had fallen to his knees, cradling a gunshot wound to his hip. The armed mech stepped in front of the miner, grinning; he pressed the barrel of the plasma gun to his forehead.

"Stop!" Ambulon shouted. He knew he went off half-cocked, but didn't care. Not right now, at least. The gang all turned to regard the medic, surprised optics wide. Ambulon pitched a glass bottle at the armed mech, dodging a blast from the gun. By the cry of pain coupled with the loud shatter of glass, he knew he hit someone.

Extorque ran over. "What are you doing!? What's going on!?" he demanded. When he peeked into the alley again, the second gangster was heading their way. "Holy frag, _what did you do_!?" He reached for anything on him he could use for a weapon. At least he had a taser; knew better to visit this stinkhole without one.

The trio didn't get very far. The miner had taken the distraction to force himself up, thrusting his elbow hard into the armed mech's face. The second gangster turned to regard their wounded leader, and the miner quickly picked the fallen gun from off the ground. Pointed it at his would-be executioner. The gangster looked from his pleading leader, back to the approaching medics; their third, wounded member had transformed, taken flight. He quickly followed after, leaving behind their comrade without a second thought.

However, before the miner could blow a hole through the gangster's head-- "Don't!" Ambulon shouted. He rushed over, Extorque reluctantly following. The miner looked up, kept his gun in place, blue optics furiously bright. The medics came to a halt, holding up their hands; Extorque quickly put away his taser. "We're from MF5-6. Resident medics Extorque and Ambulon. Do you not recognize us?"

The miner narrowed his optics.

"We're your friends," Ambulon explained. "We won't hurt you. But you can't kill him." He pointed to the trembling mech on the ground. "If you kill him, you'll only wind up in jail. Or worse. Trust me."

"Listen to him," Extorque insisted. "The scum's not worth it."

The miner seemed to consider what they had to say. He glared back at his captive, mouthing pleas. Silently, the giant stood back, withdrawing his gun. The gangster wasted no time scrambling back to his feet, transforming, and flying off. The miner waited a moment, squinted his right optic; cocked his gun, fired, hitting the retreating mech's tailfins. The jet spun and tumbled through the air, still flying but leaving behind a trail of smoke.

"You didn't need to do that," Ambulon scowled.

The miner lowered the gun, shrugged, then collapsed to one knee. The medics rushed to his side, but before they could help him up-- "Don't touch me," the miner growled, showing them the gun. 

Extorque and Ambulon stepped away.

"You are a miner from Sector 5 and 6, right?" Extorque asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Because we're your doctors, that's why," Ambulon hissed.

"I've seen you around, but only rarely," Extorque stated. "Never treated you personally, however."

"I've only seen Fissure in the past," the miner grumbled. "Besides, I watch my back."

"Evidently." The miner didn't like that, but Ambulon didn't care. He looked at the wound the miner was hiding. "You're not bleeding. Are you all right?"

"It's nothing," the miner insisted. "Go away. I can take care of myself." He grunted, repressing the pain, as he forced himself back on his feet.

"We can't do that. You're injur--"

The miner pointed the gun on Ambulon.

"Don't," Extorque said, voice serious but wavering with concern.

"I won't shoot if you turn around and leave me the Pit alone," the miner growled. "Got it?"

Extorque sighed. He looked to Ambulon. "Forget it. It's useless."

The three stared one another down for a very uneasy few seconds. Ambulon, refusing to step down, the miner just as stubborn. Extorque wasn't sure how to intervene; someone was going to get hurt if one of them didn't back down.

It was the sudden blaring wail of a police siren that broke the tension. Extorque cursed and quickly dove out of view before the cop could turn on the street and transform.

“Extorque!?” Ambulon gasped. “You--”

"What's going on here?" the officer demanded, the sirens on his back still flashing. He approached the miner and medic, optic band glowing.

"Nothing," Ambulon insisted. "Just settling a little argument."

The officer snorted. "Mining folk, huh?" He shook his head, popping open a clean datapad. "Mind tellin' me what your argument was about? And why your boy there has a huge gash in his side?"

Ambulon was surprised; the gash wasn't very deep, yet he wasn't bleeding. There should have been some bleeding. "He was atta--"

"It ain't none of your business," the miner hissed. He glared back at the cop. "None of yours, either."

The officer's frown twitched. "Is that so?" he asked, subspacing the 'pad. "How would you like tellin' the boys down at the precinct instead?"

"That won't be necessary," Ambulon assured. "We were just about to head back to the facility, patch him up."

The officer looked unconvinced. "You both can come quietly," he said, "or I can bring you back in stasis cuffs. How 'bout it?"

"I'm not going anywhere with _you_ ," the miner hissed, and the word tasted rotten on his tongue.

The officer grinned. "So, cuffs then." He reached back to remove the handcuffs on his belt. 

Ambulon raised his hands. “Sir, really, we don’t want to cause any troub--“

The cop grunted, gave a low _omph_ as he fell forward, face first into the gravel.

Ambulon and the miner looked up. Extorque stood behind the downed officer, fist still raised. He looked to his shocked colleague. "He'll be okay," he insisted, shaking his uncoiled fingers. "Just out for a little while. Doesn't mean we should stick around and wait for him to come to or for--" The approaching siren cut him short and he sighed. "... backup to arrive."

Ambulon wasn't sure what to do. Everything had escalated much too quickly. Extorque had just knocked out a fucking cop! However, the crazy bastard was right. He turned back to the miner. "Look, we need to go. Fast. Unless you want to spend the night in jail and possibly lose your job," he snapped.

The miner studied Ambulon a moment. Looked to Extorque, enthusiastically seconding the notion. The cop on the ground, the wound on his hip… "This way," he growled, and ducked out into the street. He hobbled with his injury, and Ambulon and Extorque quickly wrapped arms around him to help him move faster. The miner went to protest, but kept quiet instead.

"Where are we going?" Ambulon asked, letting the miner lead. He looked back over his shoulder. "The way back is--"

"Not out here. Can't make it out here."

"What?"

"Just shut up and follow me."

So that was that.

The miner had led them into what appeared to be an abandoned shop not far from the fight. He pulled himself free and looked up. The sirens were louder, now; the unconscious officer had been found, probably brought back online. He sighed, and the medics could tell it pained him to do what he did next. The miner turned and dug his fingers into a crack along the ground. Ambulon and Extorque jumped when the giant suddenly pushed up a massive slab of rock, revealing a tunnel beneath.

"What's that?" Extorque asked.

"Just get inside," the miner snapped.

Ambulon looked to Extorque, who just shrugged. Extorque went in first, Ambulon following after. The miner gave the area one last look over before crawling inside, carefully lowering the slab back into place above him.

It was dark and dank, but Ambulon could clearly make out a series of tunnels. They each switched on their headlights, illuminating the middle of the crossroads. "Where are we?" Extorque asked, staring down one seemingly endless tunnel to his left.

"This way," the miner grumbled, and took charge down the middle tunnel. The medics looked to one another, debating… Soon, they were tailing after him.

They walked for only a few minutes in silence before the miner stumbled, grabbing at his wound. "How about you tell us why those gangsters were attacking you?" Ambulon insisted, helping him back up.

"And where the Pit we are, for that matter."

The miner sighed. "The insectoids call me M-81. Brothers call me Pinnacle," he answered.

Extorque blinked. "Insect..." His face fell. "Oh, great. So, you're a Purist, then."

"Yes," Pinnacle grumbled. "Is there something so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, unless you count your blatant prejudice and desire to overthrow Cybertron and use mechs like us as slaves."

"Knock it off," Ambulon hissed before the two could fight. "It really doesn't matter either way. Why were they attacking you? Because you're a Purist?"

Pinnacle frowned.

"... Or you just don't know why?"

"I can tell you this," Pinnacle said, optics burning, "they did a damn terrible job at their assassination attempt."

"We did sort of stop that from happening," Extorque added.

"Why would anyone want to assassinate you?"

"I told you it was an assassination attempt. That's all you need to know," Pinnacle said, sternly. "The glitches didn't take into account the thick alloy that makes up my hide. Plasma gun felt like a damn tickle."

"You're obviously in pain, however," Ambulon said.

Pinnacle rolled his optics and hobbled onward.

"Okay," Extorque growled, he and Ambulon catching back up, "if you can't tell us why someone's trying to kill you, at least, you know, tell us where we are?"

"Do you know the history of Tarn? Better yet, the history _before_ Tarn?" Pinnacle asked, suddenly. Extorque shook his head, earning a snide chuckle. "No, you wouldn't. Not like your kind to care."

"Listen here now--"

"Before the city you see around you was constructed, there was a small, humble mining town known as Saxum standing here. At the time, the mines from Sector 5 and 6 stretched clear out into Saxum, until a quake caused a collapse that would separate the mines we know of from the city to be. When this happened, no one quite knows; vorns have since passed, records possibly lost to time. Not long after, however, the mines here were abandoned, the energon veins crippled dry. Saxum was taken over by the Senate in its old age; they filled up most of the underground tunnels and mines, built this ghetto over the town."

"So... These are the remains of the old mines?" Ambulon asked, glancing around. "How far do they go?"

"Only a few megamiles," Pinnacle answered. "They run nearly half the length of this part of the city. They don't get much deeper than this; the deepest drop is only sixty, seventy feet. You can only access the tunnels at certain points in Tarn. Points known only by a rare few."

"Is the Senate not aware of these tunnels, then?" Ambulon asked.

"They might be, but they don't care. This land is useless to them. They'll let it rot," Pinnacle snorted. "But only the Sparks of Solus know how these tunnels work. How to get in, how to get out. They're intricate, and one could easily get lost and never return. But we know them by spark."

"So, wait... Only Purists like yourself know about these tunnels?" Extorque inquired, flashing light along the old walls, streaked with foul smelling liquid. "And... Do any of them reach Sector 5 or 6?"

"No. They are completely cut off from each other."

Extorque sneered. "If only Purists know about these tunnels, does that mean you've betrayed your brothers by telling us? Are you going to kill us to keep your secrets safe?"

" _Extorque_ ," Ambulon hissed. Though it appeared his companion had sobered up some, he was still a little drunk.

Pinnacle flashed him a warning look. "No one would be able to find your bodies, you know," he said, and one corner of his frown curled into a wicked half-grin. Extorque swallowed, optics widening with disgust and horror. "I have no intention of killing either of you. Nor do I intend to sell out my secrets. And if you're smart," he said, his voice dark, "you'll keep all I've shared with you to yourselves."

"Where are we heading?" Ambulon asked, quickly hoping to change the subject.

"There is an exit just a half-megamile from here, that leads to open land between Tarn and the mines." Pinnacle pointed forward, shadows catching in the beams of light.

"More people have to know about these tunnels," Extorque insisted. "They've been here for so long, how is it only Purists know of their existence?"

"There may be others aware of the tunnels," Pinnacle agreed, "but we've had no reason to be concerned yet. These tunnels would be useless for anyone besides those needing shelter or a place to hide."

Extorque tensed. "So any klik now, we could run into someone running from the law?"

"We sort of _are_ running from the law?"

"They'd have officers blocking access to these tunnels if that's the case," Pinnacle explained. "If they are aware of their existence, they know they could very easily hide criminals or undesirables. Yet they've done nothing. In all my time in these tunnels over the many cycles, I've yet to find an officer, let alone an Empty just finding a place to rest down here."

"Just seems weird to me."

"We keep the tunnels clean, you know," Pinnacle explained. "We go in sweeps during our time off, or when we have time to spare. It's rare we find anyone, but when we do, we send them on their way. They keep out, because they do not wish to invoke our ire. They understand these tunnels are precious to us." He reached out, touching the jagged wall. "They contain history that the world has abandoned. To the outside world, these tunnels are just remnants of a forgotten past. To us, they are sacred." He looked back at Ambulon and Extorque. "Saxum birthed the Solus Purist movement, you know. When the town was destroyed, many thought the Purists were as well. But they were all fools to think us weak. We are the Sparks of Solus; we are the carriers and builders of worlds." He sneered. "Which is why our people will rise again. For we are patient and one with time. Your kind move too fast, and so you will live unsatisfied, empty, until your deaths that you've raced so eagerly to embrace.”

"That's enough," Extorque growled. He jabbed a finger against the miner's chestplates, unafraid. Ambulon widened his optics. "You think we all have it great up here? Think all us surface-dwellers are happy and content and rich? You think we don't suffer from the corruption in our society, too? There's a mech by the name of Kickspeed down in five. He lived in poverty, had to steal to make a living; he pick-pockets a filthy rich politician, ends up thrown in the mines for four cycles to do hard labor. He doesn't belong there; he doesn't want to be there. And guess what happens? One of your own decides that he's somehow better than this kid and so he tries to kill him!" Extorque squinted, tilting his head to get a better look at the miner's blank face. "Snubber. You know him, right? _Big_ fan of the Purist movement; devoted to the cause. Picks on the weak because they aren't one of him. Wow, you must be _so_ proud of ourselves, since you're such _honorable people_."

Ambulon was about ready to jump in and separate the two when Pinnacle quietly stepped back and said, "Snubber was my brother, but he was wrong."

"Oh?" Extorque folded his arms.

"Snubber and many of my kin believe violence is necessary. That our poor treatment justifies hurting and killing others. But that is not what I believe; it is not what many of my brothers believe." Pinnacle frowned, and any anger fell into sadness. "We are not a violent people. Not inherently. We want justice, but we do not want suffering and segregation. We want to be one with the rest of this world, and wish to be respected as well. But... Over the past vorn now, conditions and opinions have changed. Many Purists have grown angry and restless. And unfortunately, the same is happening to my brothers."

Ambulon raised a hand. "Wait, wait - what _exactly_ is going on?"

Pinnacle sighed. "I have said too much as is, but... There is a rift in our family now. Ever since Sickle and Scythe were killed, my brothers have lost the true meaning of what we stand for. They want war; they want blood. They do not want recognition, respect, and equality. Without leadership, we were going to fall apart, but recently... Recently that has changed."

"How so?"

"You're not going to tell us, are you?" Extorque grumbled.

"These are politics to be worked out between the family."

"Except when they're affecting outsiders and putting people's lives on the line!"

"No one will die!" Pinnacle snarled, and his voice echoed through the tunnel. "I will not let that happen! Though I find many of your kind deplorable and even worth the hurt my brothers wish to inflict upon you, I will not allow violence to consume us."

Ambulon furrowed his brows. "Are you..."

Pinnacle snorted. "No. I am merely a candidate." He rubbed the wound along his hip. "Sickle and Scythe were to choose replacements should they step down or come to an end. Unfortunately, they never got around to it. Through much deliberating, I found I was qualified to take their place. Though there is another in the running; another whose ideas differ greatly from mine."

"Who?"

"That is where I will say no more," Pinnacle said, solemnly. "And you will speak none of this to your superiors. Ultimately, they can do nothing, as we are causing no harm nor breaking any rules. We have every right to practice our religion if it does not go against the laws set by your people. As long as we do not injure or kill, we can do as we please." He looked to Ambulon. "Snubber's actions do not speak for all the Purists."

"I certainly hope not," Extorque snorted.

Pinnacle chose to ignore his comment. "Come," he ordered, trudging onward. "We're almost there."

\---

The walk took another fifteen minutes before the three arrived at a fork in the road. They stood before two separate tunnels, each completely uninviting and dangerous. 

Pinnacle pointed to the left. "This leads outside," he said.

Ambulon looked to the right tunnel. It seemed darker. "Where does this one lead?"

"Further into the mines. It's a dead end, however." Pinnacle went ahead. Extorque followed, with Ambulon at the rear.

“It smells down here.”

“Yes. That would be due to illegal waste dumping nearby.”

“What sort of waste?”

“Certainly nothing harmful. The Senate wouldn’t allow that."

“Wouldn’t they?”

_iot!_

Ambulon gasped and whirled around, optics glowing. He cast light out the mouth of the cave, searching.

Extorque stopped a second later, looked back. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't you hear that?" Ambulon asked, voice hushed.

"What? What was it?"

Ambulon looked back, his face half-hidden in shadows. "Someone... Someone said something. It wasn’t any of us. I don't know who, but... I heard a voice.”

Extorque blinked. "I... What?" He shook his head. "It was probably just some frizz rats. I'm sure they've made a home out of these tunnels."

"No," Ambulon insisted. "Too distinct. It was mechanoid. Just a word - one word. I don't know what, but it was... It was _angry_." He swallowed, his throat clenched.

Extorque sighed. "Ambulon, it's been a long day. You're tired, you're probably still a little buzzed from the engex..." He reached over and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm not leaving."

"What?"

"If someone's down here and they need help, I'm not leaving."

"No, you're--"

"Pinnacle's nervous. He's really nervous," Ambulon said, suddenly, shutting his colleague up. "He's upset about something."

"Well, given what he just went through - wait, what does this have to do with what you thought you heard?"

"Yes, but it runs deeper. Much deeper. He seems the type to keep his mouth shut even under the most dire circumstances, if it meant protecting his beliefs and his 'brothers'. Yet he told us quite enough that I'm sure his 'family' would disapprove."

Extorque cocked an optic ridge. "So, he's telling us all this, because...?"

"He's scared," Ambulon stated. "He may be strong and imposing, but he's scared. And he's not telling us why. Not directly. It's a bigger conflict than either of us could imagine. And... Maybe he's reaching out, and doesn't even realize it?"

Extorque shook his head. "I don't know what to believe, but I know we should get going." Pinnacle had long since disappeared. "I don't want to get lost down here. I don't even remember where we came from."

"You go on ahead," Ambulon ordered, moving out of the tunnel. "I need to check something."

"I'm telling you, Ambulon, it's just a couple frizz rats!"

"Just go!"

Extorque clenched his fists. "No," he hissed, earning an annoyed look. "I'm staying right here. Until you get back."

Ambulon sighed. "Fine. But if Pinnacle comes back, go with him. Don't wait up." He shrugged. "If the exit's down the end of this tunnel, I think I can manage to find my way out."

"Well, don't go exploring the other tunnel, either," Extorque growled. "And hurry up! Or I _will_ come in to get you."

"Five kliks."

"Four. You'll only need four to find and look at some damn petro-rodents."

"Sigma-- _Fine_."

Ambulon hopped out of the tunnel. He looked back at Extorque one last time before moving out of view. He stood before the mouth of the second tunnel, forcing his headlights to dim. Though he prayed it really was just a couple frizz rats, he had to be prepared. He kept his EM field restrained, hoping to use the shadows for cover until he was sure the source of the angry voice was not going to attack or harm him.

The tunnel felt wider than the others. Thick puddles of crude, polluted oil were scattered along the ground. Ambulon tried to keep from stepping in them, lest he make any noise. The voice he heard from before seemed to have... disappeared. And as he moved a good fifteen feet into the tunnel, Ambulon believed Extorque was right. Either rats or his weary mind at work.

"...aulty!"

Ambulon suddenly stiffened. The angry voice - louder, now. He was close; at least ten, fifteen inches from the origin. Ambulon swallowed, and while he could not make out anymore words, the angry grumbling continued. He carefully slid, inch by inch, closer to the source. Once he was nearly five inches, he was shocked to find there was a _second_ voice.

Ambulon stopped dead in his tracks, just before he could move in front of a gaping hole in the tunnel wall. He blinked and switched off his dim headlights as tendrils of pale light stretched from within. He could not hear what these two voices were saying, other than they were arguing. One sounded disappointed, upset, and the other, annoyed and tired. It was the second voice that most interested Ambulon because it... It sounded so familiar.

He'd heard it before.

Ambulon listened a while longer. He still had two minutes left. From what he gathered, person one was upset about a poor deal. Something failing, and person two was somehow responsible. Person two was trying to plead their case, as well as... make a deal? Ambulon winced at the sound of metal scratching along ground. Something big had been moved, person two grunting with the movement.

One minute left. Ambulon knew these people didn't need his help. Knew he should get the Hell out of there. A deal was going down, and if it was taking place underground, out of the public's eye, it couldn't be anything good or legal. Still, that second voice - person number two - God, it bothered him. He _knew that voice_.

In the end, curiosity won out. Just a quick peek; very careful, he'd be very careful. They were arguing heatedly, still, they surely wouldn't notice him. Ambulon cycled a gulp of air, pressed his slightly shaky hand to the wall, and moved an inch forward. Just enough so one optic could peek into the hole.

What Ambulon saw sent him reeling. Shock snapped like a rubberband from his EM field, and he just barely managed to muffle his gasp. He jerked back when Fissure suddenly stopped arguing with the dark, frightening looking mech. Ambulon backed away, quickly, grunting as his chest nicked the wall. As quietly as possible, he took off down the tunnel. Glancing back every few seconds to see if he was being followed.

So far, so good, and maybe Fissure had thought he'd just heard a frizz rat, too.

Extorque was just about to go in after his comrade when Ambulon burst up in front of him. "What is it!?" Extorque gasped, jumping back.

"Nothing. N-Nothing," Ambulon breathed, optics bright and burning. He grabbed Extorque by the arm and pulled him along in a quick stride.

"Ambulon, stop!" Extorque hissed, digging his heels into the ground. Ambulon was forced to a halt, still holding his colleague’s arm. "What's the meaning of this!?"

"Be quiet," Ambulon growled.

Pinnacle emerged a second later, glaring. "What the Pit are you two doing?" he snapped. “You wanna stay down here? Let yourselves get lost?”

"Nothing. Sorry. Let's go. We're leaving." Ambulon released Extorque and went on ahead.

Extorque quickly chased him down. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, less angry now and more concerned.

Ambulon looked back to make sure Pinnacle was following and close by. He then turned to his worried colleague and muttered, almost breathlessly, "We need to get out of here and we need to get out of here _fast_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's a game, there's gambling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop. Been a while since I released another chapter of "Steps". That was deliberate, however, as I wanted to hold off a bit for reasons. Anyway, here's the new chapter. Hope you enjoy. uvu

By the time Ambulon, Extorque, and Pinnacle reached the facility, most of the miners were returning from their day off in the city. They shuffled in line with the pack, appearing normal, though the medics' sparks were still racing a little. Pinnacle went to leave and join a few of his brothers before Ambulon reached out and took him tightly by the hand.

The miner glowered at the medic.

"We still need to check you out," Ambulon mumbled. He flicked his optics to the clean gash along Pinnacle's hip.

Pinnacle stared at Ambulon a moment, looking about ready to shove the smaller mech off, before sighing. "Fine," he grumbled, yanking his wrist free. He glanced quickly at his fellow Purists, watching from afar with curious, narrowed optics. "But we make this _quick_."

Extorque and Ambulon herded Pinnacle into the small medbay located in the main building.

It didn't take very long; everything checked out. Extorque welded the wound closed; when he finished he stood with a whistle. "That is some tough alloy," he said. "Almost had a hard time closing the damn thing up."

"I told you," the miner replied. "It's metrotitanium."

Ambulon looked back at Pinnacle, surprised. "The material used to build Metrotitans?"

Pinnacle snorted. "Something like that. Not many mechs around with armor like mine." He touched his repaired hip. "Dying breed, you could say."

"According to your mech specs, you're no more than two, three mega-cycles old."

"Hmm."

Well, this conversation was going nowhere. Ambulon stepped up to the miner. "You can go now," he said, "but I'd like to see you tomorrow, for a follow-up."

"Pointless. I'm fine."

"You might as well," Extorque said, folding his arms. "Either tomorrow or the next day, when everyone goes through their annual system flush."

Pinnacle scowled.

"If you want, I can come to--"

"No," Pinnacle growled and stood. "I'll come by tomorrow." He glared between the medics. "But you are to tell no one what happened to me. Not even your boss." His optics darkened. "That goes for all I have told and shown you this night as well."

Ambulon and Extorque raised their hands. "Your secrets are safe with us," Extorque assured.

Pinnacle eyed the golden medic, then Ambulon. Snorted; he was hardly convinced. However, he said nothing and moseyed out of the medbay, joining the others. Ambulon and Extorque moved to the single window; once outside, Pinnacle was flanked by a number of miners, obviously curious and noticing his fresh repairs.

"He seems as important as he made himself out to be," Extorque mumbled.

"He said there's another mech in the running for leadership," Ambulon replied. Looked to his colleague. "Who do you think that might be?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," the golden medic replied. "To be honest, whoever it is, I get a feeling Pinnacle doesn't care for them very much."

Ambulon frowned. "Yeah..."

"By the way - what happened down in the tunnels?"

Ambulon's spark clenched. He hesitated a moment, Extorque's glare turning slightly concerned. Cycling air, he turned back to his colleague, face serious. "I... I might have seen... I might have seen Fissure," he said.

Extorque widened his optics. "What? In the tunnels?"

"Yes."

"That's--"

"Unbelievable, I know," Ambulon exvented and moved away from the window. He crossed his hands behind his back. "But I know what I saw, Extorque. It wasn't the poor lighting or engex playing tricks on my CPU." He looked firmly back at the medic. "I _saw_ Fissure. And he was... He was talking to someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know, but... They had a strange helm design." Ambulon gestured around his head. "Two prongs. Looked like horns, almost."

Extorque tilted his head. "That's all? You didn't see his face?"

Ambulon grumbled. "No." He returned to pacing. "But that's not the troubling part. There was... there was a _bomb_ with them." 

Extorque optics nearly popped from his cranial chamber. "Come now," he said a moment later, collecting himself, "that's ridiculous. It couldn't have been a bomb."

"It was like a miniature nuclear war head," Ambulon scowled. "It was a bomb!"

"This doesn't make any sense!" Extorque snapped. "Pinnacle said only the Purists know of the underground tunnel. And while I'm inclined to disagree, I doubt Fissure has any idea of their existence. Why should he? And why would he, of all people, be carrying around a nuke?"

"I don't know," Ambulon said, "and obviously, we're not _suppose_ to know."

Extorque frowned. "Do you think..." He paused, bit his lip, and Ambulon looked at him. Curious by his hesitation. "Do you think you might have just... It might have just been--"

"It wasn't a drunk hallucination!" Ambulon scowled. "I saw what I saw! It _was_ Fissure, he _was_ in those 'secret' underground tunnels, and he _was_ carrying a bomb!"

"What if the bomb belonged to this stranger you mentioned?"

Ambulon shook his head. "I don't know, but it sounded... It sounded like Fissure was trying to sell it to him?" He received another shocked look. "I wish I was making this up, but I'm not."

"Why in the Pit would Fissure be selling explosives to people?" Extorque scowled. "That's just crazy!"

"Is it?" Ambulon mumbled.

"What are you trying to say, Ambulon?"

Ambulon paced another half-minute. Stopped, turned to Extorque. "We both know that Fissure is... That there's something _off_ about him," he explained, slowly.

"'Off' doesn't mean he's an arms dealer!"

"What about his work in Tarn? Those orns he's off in the city? What is he doing? We both assume it's medical work, but neither of us really know. You told me you didn't, either," Ambulon pressed, and he could see the cogs working in Extorque's mind. "We don't make very much down in the mines. Maybe this... side job of his earns him more credits?"

"Illegally dealing weapons is a huge offence. He could be facing up to a mega-cycle in jail," Extorque said. "Why would he risk his entire career - his very life - doing this? You'd think with his skill and his intelligence, he'd land himself a much higher paying, secure, and crime-free job, don't you think?"

Ambulon said nothing. He nodded, then. "I suppose," he murmured. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that he was negotiating something with that stranger over the bomb. Even if his work in Tarn is just helping out at a local hospital or clinic, he's involved in _something_ that apparently he's going to great lengths to keep secret."

Extorque opened his mouth, shut it a split second later. "Ambulon," he sighed, looking up imploringly, "don't you think this is a little... well, outrageous?" His colleague scowled and turned away. "I'm not saying you didn't see or hear anything. But is it possible the person you thought was Fissure was someone else sharing his frametype? It's not uncommon. He's got a rather standard model. I mean, how close a look did you get?"

"Enough to know it wasn't someone conveniently sharing the same frametype and voice pattern as Fissure's," Ambulon scowled, feeling slightly insulted. "I didn't get a good look at the colors; too dark. But I know it was Fissure. His voice was very distinct. Had I stayed just a minute longer, I'm sure I could have confirmed his EM signature as well."

Extorque groaned and quickly flopped into a nearby chair. "I am too hung-over for this slag right now," he grumbled, working hard circles into pressure points along the sides of his head. He glared up at Ambulon, annoyed, tired, but concerned. "I just... I just find it hard to believe that Fissure would be down in those tunnels peddling nukes to strangers. I mean, I don't think only Purists know about the tunnels, but again, Fissure? Come on. And if only the Purists know of the Saxum mine remains, then they would in no way tell Fissure, a disgusting insectoid, about their existence."

"Maybe someone else did. Maybe someone who knows the mines. Someone the Purists haven't caught or seen down there before," Ambulon suggested. "Maybe... Fissure did some research of his own."

"This is all a bit to take in, Ambulon," Extorque mumbled. He stood, still massaging his helm. "I think, right now, we're both in need of a long night's recharge." He looked to his comrade. "In the morning, when our CPUs aren't swimming in scrappy high grade, we'll... talk."

Ambulon sighed. "I know what I saw, Extorque," he said, and moved to the door. "Drunk, sober, it doesn't matter. I saw Fissure down in those mines. I saw the bomb. Whatever he was doing, it doesn't bode well."

He left then, Extorque standing in the wake, confused and a little scared.

\---

The next morning, work started early.

Miners shuffled about, some tired, some complaining about a hang-over, everyone in general wishing they had another ten hours to sleep.

Ambulon had slept rather fitfully that night. Couldn't get over what he saw in those tunnels. It wasn't a drunk hallucination or a trick of the light. It was Fissure, a bomb, and some seedy looking mech that gave Ambulon the chills. He wasn't quite sure why, but something about him...

Nonetheless, he wasn't going to lie in bed all day, tossing and turning and over-thinking. Had work to do. Ambulon headed off to work ten minutes later, tired and suffering a terrible headache.

When he arrived at the medbay, Fissure was nowhere to be seen. Ambulon wasn't really surprised, and was even a little... grateful? Nonetheless, Extorque greeted him by placing a cube in his hand. "Same medicine as last time," he explained and sat at his desk.

"The nasty tasting scrap?"

Extorque showed Ambulon his own cube. "We suffer together," he said and took a bitter swallow.

Ambulon sighed and forced down the drink. He'd never get used to this taste, but at least it got rid of his headache fast. He placed the cube on his desk and then went about checking the medbay. Peeking into every exam room as well as the closet. There was only one door he could not access, but he had a feeling Fissure wasn't there.

"Something wrong?" Extorque asked, watching him. "You're acting like a petro-rabbit hopped up on Stims."

Ambulon turned back to his colleague. "Just... looking for Fissure."

Extorque blinked before frowning. "You still on that kick?"

"You still think it was just my mind playing tricks on me?"

Extorque sighed. "I just think... I just think, given the circumstances last night, it's possible you were just seeing--"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you," Ambulon interjected with a hiss, "but I know what I saw, and it was _real_."

Extorque studied his colleague before turning away.

"You don't have to believe me," Ambulon said. "That's fine."

"I don't know if I want to believe you, that's the problem," Extorque said, firmly.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

The two medics looked up, Trisil standing at the door with a crooked smile. "No," Ambulon said and approached him. "How can we help you?"

"There's going to be a couple cops from Tarn sniffing around here later today," Trisil explained, and Ambulon tried not to fidget. "Apparently, a couple miners got in trouble with the police, and one of them knocked an officer out from behind. So they're doing a search, hoping to pick out the unlucky individuals." He sighed. "The last thing we need is Tarnian officers scrambling around down here. They make everyone uncomfortable, officers included. Think they're better than all of us."

"So..."

"So, I'm here just to give a head's up," Trisil said. "They'll probably come by, ask you guys some questions. Maybe in regards to one of the miners, who was said to be wounded." He shrugged. "You know, see if you treated someone who matches the description."

Ambulon's frown tightened. "I see..." he mumbled. "Well... Thank you."

Trisil smiled and nodded. "No problem, doc," he said. He nodded warmly to Extorque. "Looking forward to this month's flushing tomorrow." He left with a low snicker, and Ambulon slowly closed the door. Looked back to his colleague.

"This is..." Extorque swallowed. "Not good."

"I don't think the cop saw you. You did hit him from behind."

"He still saw you and Pinnacle."

Ambulon sighed. "Maybe if we're lucky, you hit him hard enough to scramble his memories."

Extorque smirked. "If anything happens, I'll take the fall," he reassured.

"You--"

"I don't mind," the golden medic replied, shrugging. "I doubt a jail cell at the TLE headquarters is any different than spending a day down here."

"Speaking of which," Ambulon murmured. "Has Pinnacle stopped by to see you?" Extorque shook his head. "I guess I should go to him then. Wouldn't help us much if the officer came by and saw all three of us together here."

"Are you gonna be all right?" Extorque asked, concern in his optics. "I mean, Pinnacle's a runner-up for leader of the Purists. Touch him wrong, and his hounds will be all over you in a--" He finished with a snap of his fingers.

Ambulon sneered. "I think I'll be all right."

Extorque just nodded. "Well, call me if you need help," he said, standing. He nodded to the one locked door. "Got a couple things I need to finish up. Won't be more than an hour."

"I'd stay in there all day if I were you."

Extorque chuckled. "Eh," he said, "and suffer Fissure's ire? No thank you." He turned just as Ambulon frowned, once more reminded of what he saw in the tunnels. Extorque seemed completely unfazed by even the possibility that his boss was selling illegal weapons. Then again, maybe he was just in denial.

Ambulon watched Extorque head into the lab. The door shut, and then he was alone.

\---

The first order of business was to seek out Pinnacle.

Ambulon wasn't sure if Trisil or any other officers would give the miners warning of the police. Figured the culprit would try to sneak out or hide. Just tell the higher-ups, and give a vague explanation for the Tarnian police snooping around to the others.

His drive took him off to Sector 6. He hadn't come across any officers, fortunately. Seemed they hadn't arrived or were off in a different sector. Despite having driven through these mines countless times in the past, Ambulon felt as if he were discovering more and more land everyday. As if a sudden turn would take him into new territory.

Pinnacle and his group were at the very far end of the mining facility. It was darker here, and they had to use lights to see their work. Ambulon transformed, headlights on his chest guiding him down through a tunnel. He could hear the echoing of equipment at work, coupled with a few shouting voices. Didn't take long before he reached the end of the tunnel, looking out over a flat ring some ten feet below. Fifteen miners were digging through the dirt and rocks, tossing energon they found in heavy carts.

Ambulon instantly spotted Pinnacle and his freshly repaired wound. He jumped down from the mouth of the tunnel onto flat ground, and despite all the noise, the miners stopped what they were doing and greeted the medic with confused and suspicious glares.

Pinnacle lowered and switched off his drill, frowning when he met Ambulon's optics. He placed his drill on the ground and headed over to the medic with heavy footfalls. Optics followed him. The large miner stopped before Ambulon and gave a loud snort. Immediately, his coworkers went back to work, leaving the two to talk.

"What is it?" Pinnacle asked.

"I told you we need to follow up on your repairs," Ambulon said, pointing to the welded gash.

Pinnacle touched it. "Nothin's wrong. I'm fine."

"Mind if I see for myself?"

The miner scowled but stayed still, allowing the medic to do his job. A minute later, Ambulon stepped back, scanner flipping back from his optic. "Seems you were right," he said. Before Pinnacle could say anything, he added quickly and quietly, "I'm not sure if you've heard, but there's going to be a few Tarnian officers combing through the mines here later today. They're looking for us, after Extorque knocked out that officer last night."

Pinnacle didn't seem concerned. "He has no proof it was us. Only his word. You can't trust words alone," he said, voice darkening, "especially those of his ilk."

Ambulon wasn't sure if that was a stab at non-miners or just the police. "Still. Stay low, all right? Don't try and attract any attention. I know that may be hard, given... your status."

"Nothing will happen," Pinnacle insisted. "Worry about yourself."

"I can worry for the three of us," Ambulon scowled. He settled then, and moved just an inch closer to the miner. "Did you ever find out who was behind your attack? You said it was an--"

"That," Pinnacle growled, and lowered himself eye level with the medic, "is none of your business."

Ambulon clenched his jaw. "It is. The health and safety of my patients is my business. Your life was jeopardized. I need to know if we have a potential killer on the loose. After the quake, I'd rather not lose anyone else."

Pinnacle snorted. "I'm Fissure's--"

"By default, you're _all_ our patients," Ambulon hissed, and one miner nearby gave him a shrill look for interrupting his superior. "I just want to make sure this doesn't happen again. To you or anyone else."

"Your concern is... appreciated," Pinnacle grumbled, sounding completely insincere, "but it's nothing for you to worry about. Things will be taken care of."

"By 'taken care of', do you mind hunting down the mech who hired those thugs to kill you and beating him within an inch of his life?"

Pinnacle's left optic twitched. "I told you. I do not condone violence. That is not my way, and not the way of those who share my beliefs." He looked around. "These are my brothers, you see. As long as I have my family, I know I am strong and safe."

Ambulon just wanted to roll his optics. "Fine," he whispered, "but if you hear anything, just... tell me? I know, I know! But whether you like it or not, _it is my business_." He squinted. "I'm sure you'd rather Sharpshift stay out of this."

Pinnacle scowled. "Is that a threat, medic?" And once more, a few miners stopped to glare at Ambulon.

"No," Ambulon hissed. "Just... Nevermind." He shook his head. "Watch your back, all right? And that's not a threat. It's a piece of sound advice."

\---

Around noon, four Tarnian officers arrived, including the mech Ambulon and Pinnacle confronted before Extorque knocked him out. He looked rightfully pissed, and the officers looked disgusted having to be down in the mines. They made no effort to hide their disdain, and the air of superiority they emitted was gag-worthy. When they spoke to both miners and Sharpshift's officers, they were curt and straight to the point. Which wasn't the problem; it was the way they spoke and looked at those they interrogated, like they were on the same level as the dirt they mined.

Fortunately, Ambulon had yet to cross paths with the officers. Too busy out and about, doing his job. Couldn't get in trouble for that. Sharpshift had yet to comm him to return to the medbay for questioning. It was obvious the chief security officer was equally annoyed and uncomfortable with the city police running through his mines. Extorque hadn't contacted him either, which meant he was probably still safe.

"Yea, we 'eard 'bout the police comin' down 'ere. Jus' dinnit think you'd be the one thar lookin' fer!"

Ambulon growled and waved his hands in a shushing motion at Zel. The large miner placed a hand over his mouth.

"What the frag did you do last night, doc?" Zing laughed. "Runnin' from the police? Scrap! Dinnit think ya had it in ya!"

"It's a long story," Ambulon sighed.

"Why can't ya just turn in the miner you helped?" Kickspeed asked. He ignored the scowls from his friends. "C'mon. Is he really worth possibly goin' t'jail for or losin' yer medical license over?"

"He did nothing wrong," Ambulon insisted.

"Then why did the officer wanna arrest him?"

"I told you: long story."

Zing groaned. "Why can't ya tell us, doc? C'mon, we're yer best friends!" He laughed and slugged Zel in the arm. "Well, me more than dese guys."

Zel shoved him back. "Slag off."

"Just... When they come by to speak with you, I have to know--"

"We ain't gonna say nuttin', luv," Zel reassured. "Give oos some credit, ey? Like twiggy 'ere says, we're friends!"

"Yeah," Zing agreed, "if they ask, we dinnit see hide or-- Twiggy? I ain't twiggy!"

Ambulon turned to Kickspeed. "I won't say anythin'," the young mech said, simply.

"Thank you," Ambulon replied, and broke up the half-playful fight between Zel and Zing. He massaged his temples. "It's just... been a really rough morning."

"Sounds like last night was no better."

"You have _no idea_."

Zing slipped beside him, throwing an arm over the medic's shoulders. Ambulon stiffened as he was yanked up snug against the taller miner. "Don't worry, doc! Yer gonna be okay! We got yer back!" he laughed. "An' maybe after work, we can all meet up at Better Then Nothin, have some borin' aft energon, an' you can tell us what _really_ happened."

Ambulon gently pushed himself free. "It's complicated. I think it's best none of you got involved. Well, you know. Besides covering my aft."

Zing whined. "Primus, yer no fun!"

"Hey! Speakin' o' drinkin'," Zel interrupted, raising a finger. He stared down at the medic. "Where's me credits, luv? I dinnit git me no Fizz, so 'ow 'bout me money back?"

Ambulon scowled. "I'm possibly facing jail time, and you..." He sighed and flipped open the compartment on his hip. Dropped a few coins in Zel's palm. The miner snickered and tucked them away.

"Yar a champ, luv," Zel said. "Maybe I'll buy ya a drink later."

"I've had enough high grade to last me a cycle," Ambulon grumbled. "And if getting overcharged ends with another fiasco like last night, _count me out_."

"We're still goin' to the bar after work," Zing said. He leaned in to whisper, "Hear they got some high grade they're sellin' under the counter."

"An' since I dinnit get me no high grade yesterday, ya bet yar sweet luvin' aft I'm gonna git me 'ands on Denthead's stash."

"He's gonna charge an arm an' a leg," Zing noted. "Ya might have to fight him."

Zel snickered. "I'm twice 'is height an' weight. Methinks 'e'll be quite obligin'."

Ambulon scowled. "Don't you--"

"We'll share with you, Kickster!" Zing said, nudging an elbow into Kickspeed's side. "Primus, you could use a drink. Ya been so down in the dumps lately."

"Literally, too," Zel snickered, and his scrawny friend joined him.

Kickspeed shrugged. "Maybe," he said.

"Wot else ya got tar do, 'ey?"

"Brood? Mope? Sulk?"

"Shuddup."

Ambulon watched the three argue, but it never got too heated. Even though Kickspeed was still getting through the entire ordeal with Snubber, it was obvious he liked the duo and got along well with them.

Ambulon smiled, and left without them even noticing.

\---

Ambulon knew it was inevitable.

Eventually, he'd be summoned to speak with the police. The officer would recognize him, and he'd be towed off to jail. Forced to give the identities of his accomplices. Ambulon didn't mind going to jail, but he wasn't going to rat out Extorque or Pinnacle.

The work day was almost over. Just another half-hour. He'd heard nothing from Extorque. Wasn't sure if that was good or bad at this point. Still, Ambulon had to return to the medbay sometime today. And he had a feeling the officers were there, waiting. They'd see his face and he'd be instantly recognize and welp, he'd never been in stasis cuffs before, so maybe it would be an interesting experience.

However, when Ambulon did arrive at the medbay, his EM field bloated with anxiety, there were no cops hanging around. Sharpshift was in his office, at his desk, sifting through datapads. Looked calm enough. A few of the regular security officers walked by, chatting or returning to work. But no Tarnian officers.

Ambulon swallowed. Maybe they were inside? He carefully made his way to his office, feet heavy. He stood at the door a moment, took a deep breath. If he was going to go to jail, he was going with some dignity. He pushed the door open and stepped inside--

No cops.

Ambulon blinked.

"Something wrong, Ambulon?"

Ambulon felt a chill run down his backstrut, turning his system cold. He looked up, slowly, as Fissure emerged from one of the exam rooms. He spoke briefly before sending his patient out, leaving the two by themselves. Ambulon suddenly felt very, very vulnerable, but tried his best to look and remain calm.

"Nothing," he said a moment later. "Just been a busy day."

"Ah, yes. Tell me about it," Fissure smirked. He washed his hands and then went to his desk. "Saw two dozen patients today, most which superficial wounds easily avoidable or due to their clumsiness and carelessness." He snorted.

"It happens," Ambulon murmured.

"Didn't help with those police popping by every few kliks."

Ambulon's fingers twitched into fists, uncurled. "Yes," he said, "I saw them a few times. Interrogating the miners."

"Then you know why they were here," Fissure said. He laughed and shook his head, switching on his console. "Our boys - always gettin' into trouble. At least Sharpshift's calmed down again. Wasn't very happy being woken early and summoned to Armorshield's office for briefing." He chuckled. "Poor Sharp. He and Armorshield never did get along."

"Where are the police? Are they still here?"

"No," Fissure said. "They left about twenty kliks ago. Didn't catch the mechs they were lookin' for."

Ambulon tried not to cycle a breath of relief. "That's too bad."

"Did they speak to you?"

Ambulon hesitated. "Yes," he lied, and felt as if Fissure saw right through him. "I wasn't much help."

Fissure nodded idly. Taking his silence as returning to work, Ambulon sat his desk. Tried not to appear so stiff as he went about filing reports on today's repairs. For a while, it was awfully quiet, in a way that seemed normal. To an outsider. But Ambulon felt something was wrong. And where was Extorque? He had last shift tonight. He should be here.

"He was called upstairs. Officer needed him to look over something."

Ambulon looked to Fissure. The CMO chuckled. "You looked like a lost petro-pup, searching for its master," he said, and the young medic tried not to curse. "He should be back soon."

"Right."

As things went back to stuffy, uncomfortable--

"Bad business, really. Bad, bad business, this thing with the cops."

Ambulon kept his optics locked on his screen, pretending to work.

"When someone down here slips up, it makes us all look bad," Fissure sighed. "Everyone is affected, just because of a couple troublemaking hooligans. Don't you think it's a bit wrong to involve everyone? Especially when the culprits are too cowardly to step up and take responsibility for what they did."

Ambulon remained quiet and calm. Hoped his facade was working.

"By the way."

Ambulon shifted when Fissure suddenly reached over, placed something on his desk. "This yours?" he asked, and withdrew his hand.

Ambulon's spark jumped into his throat. It was the magnetic badge given to him at Last Resort. He'd completely forgotten about it. Did he lose it when running from the police? Down in the tunnels? In fact, he vaguely recalled bumping his chest into the wall, right after he saw... Ambulon's tanks twisted, as if suddenly filled with acid.

"I figured you must have gone to Last Resort last night. Usually everyone here spends their time off there," Fissure explained, calmly. "Your first time out on the town, surely you must have swung by there. Asked a couple miners, and they confirmed it. They give these out to their new customers." He smiled. "Charming, isn't it? No pun intended."

Ambulon mumbled something. He could lie, but that would only make things worse. Dammit. "Yes," he said, and took the pin. "I must have dropped it on the way back from the bar..."

"You should be careful," Fissure said, wagging a finger. "It may not be much, but it's still your little treasure. And, let's face it," he chuckled, "no one likes having their possessions taken from them. Even little things like that." He sat back, still smiling so warmly.

"Yeah," Ambulon said, "thank you." He then deposited the pin in a desk drawer.

"No problem!" Fissure said. "I recommend trying a new bar. Something with better high grade. That place is dirty and in a very dangerous part of town. Thugs, thieves, ex-cons." He tilted his head. "Best to stay away, don't you think? You never know what could happen. You don't want to get involved in any dirty business."

Ambulon knew Fissure was saying more than he let on. Just enough for the young medic to know he wasn't simply lightheartedly conversing. "True," he said, and his spark flared, "but I like it there. I like the people there."

The corners of Fissure's grin twitched. "I see," he said. He exhaled and turned back to his work. "But, do remember to be careful," he added, and nodded to the pin tucked away. "So you don't lose anything precious, you know."

Ambulon stared at him for a moment. "I'll be careful," he said, and they shared a moment of silence. Fissure's optics bore into his, dark and deadly, and he knew... He knew. He had to know. He saw Ambulon, he must have, or at least heard him. "I'll be careful," he said, again, pressing a hand firmly to the desk drawer.

Fissure smiled. "Very good."

\---

Extorque had returned fifteen minutes later. Fissure left just as he arrived, and Ambulon felt weight lift from his shoulders. However, there was still that... lingering fear. He wanted to tell Extorque what happened, but decided-- No. He had to figure a few things out.

Ambulon finished up with his final patient, seeing them out. The miners were heading back to the surface, but he still had another ten minutes before he could join them. Sitting at his desk, he did his best to forget what happened earlier. At least for now.

"Dooooooooc!"

Both Ambulon and Extorque jumped as Zing suddenly slammed both hands on the medbay window. He cackled, sitting up-top Zel's shoulders. The large miner stepped back, balancing his friend; Kickspeed was off to the side, arms folded and looking unimpressed.

Ambulon went to the door. "What is it?"

"You comin' to the bar or what!?" Zing demanded. At a sudden jerk, he latched onto Zel's head. "Stop movin' around, I'm gettin' sick--"

"I cannae see, ya dumbaft!"

"Well, jus' hold still--"

"Argh!"

Kickspeed stepped to the side, Zel and Zing toppling over beside him. Ambulon quickly rushed out of the medbay. "Are you all right?" he asked, helping Zing up.

"I'm fine!" Zing scowled. Both he and Ambulon took Zel's arms and hefted him back to his feet. He then shoved at his friend, who barely budged. "Idiot! I almost broke my neck!"

"S'yar fault!" Zel snapped.

" _I have to finish up some work_ ," Ambulon said, firmly and loudly, and instantly stopped the arguing. "But... I'll try to catch up with you later."

Zing snorted. "Awright," he said, "but ya promise?"

"I said I'd try."

"You better come, doc," Zing ordered, squinting. "Ya got twenny kliks. No more, no less. Got it?"

Ambulon snorted. "Sure. Right. Fine."

Zing nodded. "Hey," he said, turning to Zel, "pick me up."

"Not on yar life!" Zel snapped and pushed him toward the elevators.

Ambulon sighed and looked to Kickspeed. "Make sure they stay out of trouble, will you?"

"I'll try," the young mech said, hands raised.

"Kickster, stop lollygaggin'!"

Kickspeed quickly scuttled after his friends, and Zing, now thrown over Zel's shoulder, pointed to his optics, to Ambulon's, then back to his optics. Ambulon smirked and watched them go. When he returned, Extorque was staring with a smile.

"You got yourselves some good friends there, Ambulon," he said.

"They're okay," Ambulon smirked.

Extorque's smile softened. "Were they close to Scrooseloose, too?"

"No, not really."

"I see," Extorque mumbled. "Pardon me for asking, but... Did anything happen while I was gone?"

Ambulon blinked. "Come again?"

"You and Fissure were alone for a while," Extorque said, "and after what happened last night, I just... Did you say anything?"

"No," Ambulon answered. "But I..." He frowned, clenched a fist. He looked back to Extorque. "I think he knows. I think he knows I saw him down in the tunnels."

Extorque widened his optics. "What? How?"

"He was... He was being very cryptic with me," the younger medic explained. "Just... I don't know. He spoke as if--as if he were warning me. That, and." He glanced to his desk drawer. "He found my badge from Last Resort."

"You could have dropped that anywhere. Not necessarily in the tunnels," Extorque insisted. "And just... Well, what do you think he's going to do?"

"I don't know."

Extorque bit his bottom lip. "This isn't good... If he's acting strange around you, then... Then..."

"Then you've no choice to believe me?" Ambulon snorted. "Don't worry. As far as he knows, it was only me down there. If he's got any problem, it's with me and me alone."

"You sure?"

Ambulon sighed. "No," he confessed, "but if you just... stay out it, I doubt he'll suspect--"

"Play ignorant, huh?" Extorque sneered. Ambulon was surprised by his sudden bitter tone. "Just... pretend everything's okay. Let you deal with everything on your own. Is that it?"

"Ex--"

"Look," Extorque growled. "I lost a friend all ready because... Because." He stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Look. I just... It's okay. You can come to me. You don't have to... to push me away."

Ambulon frowned, sadly. "I just... don't want to get you involved. If he's planning anything--"

"--Then we're in this together, okay?" Extorque finished. His tone was firm, and Ambulon knew arguing with him was pointless.

Ambulon just shook his head.

Extorque watched his colleague. He suddenly felt guilty, even though he knew he shouldn't. He wasn't going to let Ambulon suffer alone, should Fissure try anything. He'd lost Tightclinch by choosing to remain oblivious. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Hey. Um."

Ambulon looked up. Extorque's optic ridges were furrowed. He looked back out the window, to the door.

"What is it?"

After checking if the coast was clear, Extorque turned back to Ambulon and inched forward. "I want to show you something," he said, voice lowering. Ambulon blinked, confused. The golden medic drew to his feet, quickly moving to the laboratory door across the room. The one room Ambulon had no access to. He swished a hand furiously for his colleague to quickly follow.

Ambulon did as he was told. After punching in the security code, Extorque pushed Ambulon into the lab first, following a second later. With the door locked and secure, he turned back to his coworker, eyeing the various equipment and contained specimens lined along the walls and tables.

Extorque went ahead of him. "Remember when I asked if you knew about Outpost C-11 a while back?" he asked, stopping at the far wall. Ambulon nodded. The golden medic squat, and with a grunt, pushed aside a square chunk of the wall.

Ambulon watched, curious and confused; he could see the edge of what looked to be a black safe within the gutted hole.

"What's that?"

"Hold on."

Extorque fiddled with the lock for a minute before it hissed open, releasing a gush of oxygen. "Only Fissure and myself have the code to unlock this safe, but I changed it recently, so it's only me..." he murmured, carefully removing something Ambulon could not see. He stood, slowly. "Only a few people know I keep this down here, as it's illegal to possess on Cybertron."

Extorque turned a minute later. Ambulon looked from his bright optics to the object in his hands. A translucent box containing a beautiful crystal flower. Its petals were a bright pink, its stem a dark purple, and it floated still in the middle of the thick box. Light from above caught its surface, and it started to glow.

Ambulon widened his optics. "What... _is_ that?"

"Kind of reminds you of the flowers from the Crystal Gardens, right?" He moved a little closer. "This is a Venio flower. They exist only on the planet Venios, which is the location of the C-11 Outpost. Deep underground, there are pools of water that these plants live off of."

"It's quite beautiful," Ambulon said.

"Venios has only a few lifeforms, you see, one of which is a small breed of insectopods known as skits. They live in the flowers, and are also responsible for carrying their spores to breeding grounds so the flowers may thrive." He tapped a finger on the cube. "These flowers come in a variety of colors. They change depending on C-11's seasons. These colors indicate the third season of the planet known as 'spring'."

Ambulon folded his arms. "Okay. But something about this flower isn't quite as nice, if you have to keep it locked down here as well as the fact they're illegal on Cybertron." He narrowed an optic. "Something to do with... virology?"

Extorque beamed. "You see," he said, turning the cube around, "these underground pools are blocked off from the miners on C-11. Not long after the mines opened, a group of miners were exposed to the Venio flowers. When they were picked, the flowers released their spores into the air, as a type of survival mechanism. Exposed to these spores, the miners immediately fell ill. Their bodies began to convulse and seize before they fell unconscious. Reports said they woke up a few kliks later, apparently fine but complaining of chest pains. When they went to see a medic, they discovered via full body scan the spores had hooked onto their sparks and were leeching off their spark energy."

Ambulon winced. " _Sigma_."

"The medic quickly opened them up after the medbay and those exposed were put in quarantine. Removing the spores proved to be futile. They had eaten away at the spark casing and were all ready moving into the core. About this time, the patients complained of numbness and tingling throughout their bodies; various programs began to shut down one by one. There was no way the spores could be removed. They devoured the sparks nearly twenty minutes later, completely destroying it."

"That is... _horrifying_."

Extorque looked at the flower. "Yes, but, the medic discovered that the spores cannot survive more than ten kliks in our atmosphere above ground. They essentially implode. Specimens removed from the mines died and shattered. So they had to be placed in special pressurized containers, such as the one I'm holding now."

"So, why _do_ you have one? And doesn't it need the water underground to survive?"

"The flower is in a state of suspended animation. Neither dead nor alive. But if I were to remove it from the container, it would spring into action. Most likely release its spores," Extorque explained. "You've no idea how many credits I had to pay to get one of these fraggers. I had to beg and plead Armorshield, Sharpshift, and Fissure to allow me to keep it here."

"Just as a prize?"

Extorque chuckled. "No," he said, "to study." He pat the box. "Every once in a while, under very careful conditions, I manage to extract a spore. I've dissected maybe six in the five cycles I've had this flower. The medic who worked on the infected miners was a professor at my academy. He taught me everything I know on virology and immunology. He told me that he believes a chemical found in the spores - which he humbly named after himself, Xinexium - may serve as a powerful counter-active drug against corrosive and metal-eating diseases."

Ambulon tilted his head. "How so?"

"If we can somehow alter the DNA of the spores, we can use them to fight the viral programming and infected CNA for such diseases like, say, a severe case of Miner's Rust."

Ambulon looked alarmed. "You... Please tell me you haven't--"

"Been testing on unsuspecting miners?" Extorque finished, frowning. Ambulon stared, and then the golden medic laughed. "No! Sigma, _no_. I am a doctor and a scientist. Not a mad man. Of course I would never experiment on unwilling test subjects. Besides, I haven't reached that stage yet. But when I do, it will be tested on frizz rats first, of course." He held up the glowing flower. "And if I find success with the frizz rats, I'll take this to the Scientific Community of Cybertron and... Well, we go from there!"

"Is your old professor - Xinex? Is he working on altering these spores, too?"

"Yes," Extorque replied. "We're sort of unofficially racing against one another. But we're both careful. We know these things are delicate and you must not rush them."

"I agree this is all very fascinating, if a little crazy," Ambulon said, cocking an optic ridge, "but... Why are you showing me this?"

Extorque was quiet. He lowered the cube. "I... well." He smirked. "I guess... I guess I just miss talking about it." He met his coworker's gaze. "Tightclinch was almost as obsessed with this experiment as me. I let him watch me work on one of the spores, once. He desperately wanted to help me out, but I told him he had to wait. I had only worked on a couple in the past, so I wanted to be careful." He pointed to the flower's stigma. "I haven't worked on a spore since he died. There's only five left."

Ambulon frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Extorque sighed, loudly.

"For what it's worth, I do find it interesting."

Extorque grinned. "You and 'Clinch were the only ones. Fissure wants nothing to do with it, it scares Sharpshift, and Armorshield... Well, he trusts me enough for me to experiment on it. As long as I do so in the proper environment." He shrugged. "The spores must be inhaled or ingested to have any affect, but once they attach to something, they don't let go. Thus, the infection doesn't spread and isn't contagious. They just go for the nearest power source, burrow inside, expecting to grow and thrive but... Well, they just die alongside their host."

"Truly a tragic romance."

"... That was morbid."

Ambulon pinched his nose. "Long day."

Extorque laughed. "By the way," he said, "its name is Deceptor."

Ambulon looked at him. He looked back.

"I'm not very good at naming things, okay."

"I'm not saying anything."

Extorque sighed. "But... Yes." He turned to the safe, carefully putting the flower back inside. "I just thought you might appreciate it." The safe door shut, its lock spinning before clamping down tight. Once he made sure everything was secure, he pushed the block of wall back in place. It blended seamlessly into the rest of the wall. Extorque stood, brushing off his hands. "I may be dissecting another spore soon. I thought you should know, so now you won't feel so entirely..." He spun a hand by his head. "Out of the loop, I suppose."

Ambulon smiled. "It's refreshing. Not having information held behind my back."

"I suppose." Extorque paused. "You said a while back... That you thought I wanted to work somewhere else."

"I can't remember, but sounds about right."

Extorque frowned. "I'd give anything to be somewhere other than here, it's true."

Ambulon stared, confused. "Can't you... transfer?" he asked.

"I plan to, eventually," the golden medic replied, clutching fists at his sides. "But, you see. There's a few things tying me to this place. Not just Deceptor. But..." Extorque met Ambulon's gaze again. "... Maybe that can all change."

"How do you mean?"

"You have an appointment to keep, don't you?" Extorque asked, and gestured Ambulon to follow him out the lab.

Ambulon didn't appreciate the sudden change of topic, but was too tired to argue. "I suppose," he said. "Why don't you join us?"

"Still got thirty kliks," Extorque said. "Maybe some other time."

"Sure." Ambulon watched him lock the lab door. He went to his desk, put away a few reports before cleaning up and heading out.

"And, you know. Remember what I said."

Ambulon looked back. Extorque was smiling, but it was something sad. "If you need to talk," the golden medic said, "I'll listen. Really, I will."

Ambulon was quiet a moment. "I know," he murmured. He left a second later, shutting the door behind him. As he made his way to the elevators, he stopped to glance into the medbay window. Extorque was at his desk, back to him, haunched over, and Ambulon felt something in his spark ache.

His optics drifted, finding Sharpshift's office nearby. Ambulon nearly jumped when he met Sharpshift's gaze, the security chief staring at him from his window. Ambulon swallowed, but did not waver. Sharpshift glared another moment before nodding. The medic weakly nodded back; Sharpshift squinted then turned, disappearing deep inside his office.

Ambulon exhaled. He moved fast for the elevators.

\---

Ambulon debated meeting Zel, Zing, and Kickspeed at the bar, or just staying in for the rest of the night. His processors ached and he still felt a little shaken from last night. However... No. He couldn't let it get to him. Had to keep his mind level.

Twenty minutes later, he met with the three down in BETTER THEN NOTHIN. The bar was mostly empty save a few stragglers. Zing was loudly prattling over his cube while Zel just nodded, half-listening. Kickspeed was studying his cube, taking a sip every few minutes; for the most part, he looked bored. He spotted Ambulon arrive first.

"Thought you wouldn't make it," Kickspeed mumbled as Ambulon took a seat beside him.

"Yeah, well," Ambulon sighed, and tapped on the bar, "not in the mood for recharge."

The bartender looked over, followed by Zing and Zel. "Ya made it!" Zel laughed and leaned over Kickspeed to throw an arm over the medic's shoulder. Kickspeed grumbled, sinking in his stool as the larger miner leaned against him.

"Looks like all that worryin' was fer nuthin', right, doc?" Zing smirked and winked.

Ambulon sighed. Zel pulled away, letting Kickspeed sit upright again. "I suppose," he said, blandly. Actually, far from it. It just seemed... weird.

The officers searched high and low for their suspects, but found nothing. They should have at least found and recognized Pinnacle. And though Ambulon had managed to evade the cops for the most part, he was sure they would have seen a photo of him or something. They would have asked if anyone recognized him going by descriptions. Granted, it was dark when they confronted the officer, but still. Surely if the cop described him to Sharpshift, Sharpshift... would...

No.

No, he wouldn't turn him in. Sharpshift needed all the help he could get. Couldn't risk losing another medic, even. Was it possible he lied, pretended he knew nothing, for Ambulon's sake? No, for _his_ sake. He didn't like the medic, but he still _needed_ him.

It was very confusing, and Ambulon knocked back a huge swallow of his energon. Wished it wasn't plain. Could sort of use a buzz right now.

He looked over to his friends, talking animatedly. Kickspeed chiming in with one-worded responses or nodding or just... staring off into space.

"Just two more deca-cycles," Ambulon said, quietly, and the young miner glanced back at him. He sipped his energon, and said, again, "Just two more deca-cycles. You can hold out until then. You'll be okay."

Kickspeed's bland expression turned a little sad. "What choice do I have?" he sighed and stared into his cube.

"What happened with Snubber won't happen again," Ambulon insisted. "We won't let it." He nodded to Zel and Zing.

"Wotchu tawkin' 'bout?" Zel asked suddenly, turning. "Somefin' 'bout Snubber?" He cursed. "Bugger's off t'rot in tha mines o' Garrus-1."

Zing raised his cube. "Goooooood riddance!"

"Aye, I'll drink tar that!"

After the miners toasted and sucked down more energon, Zel pat Kickspeed on the back. Soft, this time; seemed he was watching his strength with the little miner. "Yar gonna be awright, luv," he reassured in a soft croon.

Kickspeed shrugged. "Yeah." He didn't sound like he had much faith, and yet... He wasn't entirely ungrateful. "I just got to keep watchin' my back."

"Wit' the way ya swing yer pick ax," Zing laughed and pointed, "ya should be all right!"

Ambulon blinked at the uproarious laughter. Kickspeed looked a little embarrassed. "Dis bugger 'ere," Zel snickered and poked the young miner's shoulder. "Dis glitch 'ere wuz swingin' 'is pick ax 'round tha other day, an' 'e got angry an' 'e nearly knocked me 'ead off!"

Ambulon stared. "What?"

"It got stuck, okay?" Kickspeed growled, massaging his forehead. "I had to pull really hard and when the ax came loose, I lost my balance and fell over. I didn't mean to swing it back."

"Nearly got me 'ead, ya did!" Zel cackled.

"He ain't mad none," Zing reassured both his companion and the medic.

Kickspeed huffed.

"Just be more careful next time," Ambulon said. "Get Zel or Zing to help you."

"I know. It was just an accident."

"It only takes one accident, kiddo."

Kickspeed growled and nearly shoved his cube off the bar. He hopped off of his stool and stormed out of the bar. The others watched him go, confused. Zing and Zel looked back to Ambulon.

"Somefin' we said?"

Zing went to leave but Ambulon said, quickly, "No. Leave him be." He frowned and sat forward, nursing his cube. "I think he needs a little alone time. He'll be fine."

Zing looked to Zel. He shrugged and sat back down, gathering his cube. "If you say so, doc."

"Yew doin' awright thar, luv?" Zel asked, concerned.

Ambulon sipped his drink. "I'm fine," he half-lied. "Just got a lot on my mind."

"Wanna share? We'll lissun, yanno."

"I know." Ambulon shook his head, and forced on a crooked smile. "Right now, the best medicine, is just..." He held up his drink to the miners, then took a swallow.

They didn't seem to get it, but they respected his privacy. "Well, then, 'ow 'bout a li'l story?" Zel asked and Ambulon nodded, swallowing his mouthful of energon.

"'Ere's a li'l tale 'bout a li'l miner who wunce loss 'is ax in-na two-'undred deep shaft pit an' tried ta crawl daown an'--"

Zing shoved a hand to his friend's face. "Shut it, aftface!" he snarled. "I'mma stuff dat big gab of yers fulla rocks ya keep tawkin'!"

Zel just laughed as Zing continued spewing half-playful obscenities and threats at him.

Despite everything, Ambulon was happy he came tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Domino Effect

There had been some initial hesitation.

A few days passed since the incident in Tarn. Fleeing from the cops, discovering the remains of the old Saxum mines, and Ambulon accidentally stumbling upon Fissure apparently trying to pawn a bomb off on some very questionable looking mech.

Ambulon had debated looking into Fissure's files. He had to know what happened. And it seemed Fissure was also suspicious, having found his Last Resort pin down in the mines. Though Ambulon continued to play innocent and cool, he knew Fissure was watching him closely during work. Whatever happened was apparently important enough to warrant the old medic's constant shadowing. Even out on the field, Fissure seemed to have eyes following Ambulon, making sure he kept his mouth shut, or finding out if he knew anything.

Really, it was the old mech's fault. By showing Ambulon just how crucial it was to keep his double life a secret, it seemed all the more important he be exposed. No matter what, illegally dealing weapons was no small offense. And his "customer" did not look like some bomb disposal unit or proper, upright citizen.

Still, this was treading on dangerous water now, and Ambulon knew. While he needed, and very much wanted, to know what Fissure was doing during his time off, it was mighty risky. So, for some days, Ambulon kept his nose out of Fissure's business, played along with the CMO, went about acting as if he had nothing to hide.

Almost a week later, Ambulon still wasn't sure what to do. Keep quiet and forget what he saw or take some sort of action. He couldn't involve the police; no evidence, for one, and secondly, he was pretty sure showing his face around the precinct so soon after squabbling with the officer some nights ago would land him in jail.

Finally, Ambulon came to a conclusion. He would keep his eyes peeled for now, but would not go out of his way. However, maybe, just maybe... What was the harm in looking at Fissure's file? Maybe something would stand out, maybe some small, seemingly harmless little detail would blow this case wide open. Or at least make some sort of sense out of this mess.

There was only one problem: the only people who could access Fissure's personal files were Armorshield, Sharpshift, and the rest of the medical team. That made up five people. And if word got out that someone had been peeking into his files, Fissure would immediately suspect Ambulon.

There had been some initial hesitation, and much deliberating, before Ambulon finally figured something out.

"You wanted to see me?"

Maceforce had bright, eager optics; he was young, just a little older than Ambulon himself. Probably fresh off the assembly line. It was a shame he was spending his youth here in these mines. When the medic opened his door, those optics lit up and a huge smile split Maceforce's face. That hero worship and reverence for Ambulon saving him during the quake had not faded in the least.

And Ambulon couldn't help but feel a little guilty, taking advantage of that loyalty and desire to please.

Ambulon silently gestured Maceforce inside, then shut the door. He turned to face the young officer, his expression solemn.

The smile wilted on Maceforce's face; something was wrong. "Are you okay, doctor?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Ambulon replied, his voice stiff. He paused a moment before reaching out and placing his hands on the taller officer's shoulders. "I have a favor to ask of you, Maceforce, and I... It might be a little... dangerous."

However, Maceforce was not deterred. As a security officer, it didn't surprise Ambulon. In fact, he only looked more eager.

"What is it?"

"I have... reason to believe that Fissure may be involved in some... dirty business."

Maceforce's optics widened. "The CMO? What? How?"

"I can't tell you much, but I think he may be illegally dealing arms on the black market." Before Maceforce could ask more questions, Ambulon continued, "I know it sounds insane, and trust me: I've wondered if I've just been blowing this _way_ out of proportion. But I think it's worth some investigation."

"What can I do?" the officer asked.

"I can't access Fissure's personal files without possibly exposing myself. And I know you don't have access," Ambulon explained. "But... I'm not asking you to tail Fissure. I'm not asking you to keep an optic on him. But I think..." He frowned. "I know where Fissure worked prior before he came to this facility. It's a well kept secret, but I managed to dig up this much. If you're able to find i>anything on Fissure, I'd much appreciate it."

"You want me to speak to his old coworkers?" Maceforce inquired.

"I don't know. That sounds too up front; too risky," Ambulon said. "The point is to stay in the shadows. Keep yourself safe. I said this could be potentially very dangerous, but I know you can do this much. Read up on any incidents that happened at Iacon General, anything that could be traced back to Fissure." He looked Maceforce square in the eyes. "Find out what you can without endangering or incriminating yourself. I don't want you hurt or..." He sighed and stepped back, hand to his forehead. Dull pain throbbed in his temples. "This sounds insane, I know, and I really don't want to involve outsiders, but my hands are tied and I think, whatever Fissure is doing, whatever he is planning with that bomb, cannot be g--"

"Bomb!?" Maceforce winced as Ambulon angrily swatted a hand at his face, hushing him with a shrill hiss. The officer apologized meekly and took a moment to compose himself. "You... You think he's peddling bombs to criminals?"

"Criminals, maybe. I don't know. But what I saw was close to a nuke, Maceforce," Ambulon said, darkly, his optics dimming, "and those are only used for one purpose."

"Do you think he might be helping Coaldust?"

Ambulon shuttered his optics, looked up at the young officer. "Coaldust?" he repeated.

"The Iacon Bomber," Maceforce said, and the medic still looked confused. "Couple days ago, it was on the news. Thanks to eye witnesses, this guy named Coaldust was named the number one suspect in the bombings and is currently wanted by the police. They showed a sketch of him and everything."

Ambulon swallowed. "What did... What does he look like?"

Maceforce furrowed his brows. "It's been a couple orns..." he murmured. After a moment's silence, he snapped his fingers and said, "I guess he's navy blue, rust-gold highlights. Um... Got a standard 65483-2483-321 frame. Um. Red optics. And horns on his head, like some sort of cro--"

" _That was him_!" Ambulon suddenly gasped, and nearly stumbled.

Maceforce reached to help him upright. "Who?"

"The mech Fissure was speaking to down in the mines had two prongs on his head. Like horns!" Ambulon declared. "That was the _Iacon Bomber_!"

"Are you sure? I mean, it's not an uncommon body-type, so--"

"Putting all the pieces together, doesn't it make sense?" Ambulon interjected. His optics paled. "And the bomb-- If that was indeed a nuke..."

Maceforce swallowed. "... He-- The bomber hasn't used nukes in the past. If he uses a nuke, the damage would be--" He shook his head. "Ambulon, we should go to the police."

"With what proof?" Ambulon asked. "I've nothing but what I saw down in the mines when it was very dark and I was still a little sloshed from some terrible high grade."

Maceforce twitched uncomfortably. "But this is bigger than the both of us! I can stalk and tail Fissure and go digging for information, but it might be too late! He'll use the nuke and--and--oh, Primus, _the causalities_..." He grabbed at his head, giving a full body shiver.

Ambulon reached out and took his shoulders again. "Maceforce," he said, firmly, "you need to get a hold of yourself." The officer looked him weakly in the optics. "We need to... stay calm. Be rational here." He bowed his head, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up, meeting Maceforce's gaze again. "... An anonymous tip. If we send an anonymous tip to the police, we might... We might be able to stop him."

"Am I the only person you told all this to?" Maceforce asked. "Do you think Fissure will figure out it's you? Or do others know? ... Does _Fissure_ know you've told anyone?"

"No to most of those," Ambulon said. "But it's my head on the chopping block here. And that's fine. If Fissure manages to squirm his way out of this, he'll come for me."

Maceforce frowned. "Doctor, I can't just--"

"It's my life versus hundreds, _thousands_ more."

Maceforce was quiet. He exhaled and bowed his head, defeated. Ambulon smiled slightly. "I'll send out the tip," he said. "I'll tell them what I saw. They'll investigate the Saxum mines, bring Fissure in for questioning. I'm sure they'll uncover something; I'm sure they'll be able to stop Coaldust."

"We're fortunate he hasn't made his move yet," Maceforce murmured. "I think it's 'cause he's trying to lay low for a while, now that his ugly mug is plastered all over the news."

"Could be. Let's hope this smokes him out."

Maceforce sighed again. "Right," he said, "but... I can still help. I can look for information, dig up any dirt on Fissure. See if he's hiding anything. If only just to provide more evidence if the police are unable to."

"Maybe. But for right now, sit tight, all right?" Ambulon insisted. "Don't do anything until we see how this goes. If Fissure's released, he'll focus his attention on me, if indeed he's one for petty revenge. Otherwise, he'll try to be burning any remaining bridges. And if he knows you're out there looking for clues he might have missed, you're in even more danger."

"I don't like this," Maceforce said, simply.

"Nor do I," Ambulon replied, "but... We have to do something."

Maceforce stepped forward, and placed his hands on Ambulon's shoulders. "You're not alone in this, just remember that," he said, sternly. "I'll do what I can."

"I debated asking you to help me, and even telling you. You and Extorque are the only people who know about all this, you know."

"Don't feel bad," the officer assured. "I'm glad you did. Because... You were going to do something, weren't you? With or without anyone's help? You would have done all this on your own." The medic deflated somewhat. "You need someone who has your back. Because if you fail, who's going to stop Fissure?" His hands squeezed Ambulon's shoulders. "I trust in you, Ambulon. I trust what you saw in the mines... I trust you know what you're doing."

Ambulon smirked, lopsidedly. "At least someone does."

"Things'll be okay, doc," Maceforce reassured, and smiled. "We'll work something out."

\---

Ambulon had meant to send the anonymous tip later that night, and yet...

Doubt still lingered in his mind. He wondered if this was the right thing to do. If this was indeed him just making a mountain out of a mole hill. Still, if his suspicions were correct, the clock was ticking. It was literally a time bomb. Coaldust could be prepping the nuke as he slept, as he waited, as he questioned and second guessed himself. And the idea of the blood of thousands of lives on his hands would haunt him to his grave. If the eventual grief and self-loathing did not spiral into an obsessive insanity.

Still.

It would be too risky to send the tip from the facility. Especially from Ambulon's personal console. They could easily trace it back; he was sure that transmissions were being monitored here. Especially with the threat of uprising and gang wars taking place below. He'd have to go to the city - but leaving in the middle of the night would also be too suspicious. Guards were posted, surveillance cameras capturing everything. Yet there was no time Ambulon could spare during the day.

Ambulon spent the next few hours early in the morning pacing in his room, nearly building a groove into the ground. He stopped once, hands fretting fingers and wrists nervously behind his back; glanced over to his computer, the screen buzzing with an ugly chartreuse green glow.

Five hours passed since he broke the news to Maceforce. Four hours later, Ambulon felt his spark jump, startled, in his chest, at the sound of his door unlocking. He twisted around, yellow optics wide; the only people who could break into his room, who had the access and override codes, were security and medical personnel. Maceforce would have knocked, would have called him ahead of time.

Ambulon reached for the nearest blunt object. He'd fight for his life if need be.

The door shoved open and in a blur of gold, Extorque moved inside quickly, shut the door quietly behind him. Once locked, he turned and Ambulon had to admire the way he restrained his fury that was so obvious in his blazing optics.

"Are you out of your fragging _mind_!?" Extorque hissed, keeping his voice low. The walls were thin; Ambulon could hear Boulderdash's snoring next door.

"What?"

Extorque walked quickly up to Ambulon, getting into his face. "You know what I'm talking about," he growled.

"I don't, actually," Ambulon murmured.

"Maceforce called me," Extorque grumbled, and his colleague's optics widened again. "He told me what you planned to do. You told him I knew; you told him you told me. So he asked me to keep a close eye on you, since he was going to be 'busy'." Extorque grit his teeth and hissed, "What the Pit does he mean by _busy_? What did you tell him?"

After a few moments of hesitation, Ambulon sighed and finally confessed. "I need him to gather information for me," he explained, and Extorque's EM field was flaring with slipping anger. "I told him not to risk his neck. Not to do anything direct."

"You know you're putting him in danger either way, right?"

Ambulon looked Extorque straight in the eyes, then bowed his head.

Extorque gave a disgusted sigh. "You've made a right mess of everything," he growled, "and let me tell you." He shoved his finger against Ambulon's chest. "You send in that tip, you have Maceforce crawling around like a fly on the wall, and things are only going to get worse. So much worse." He drew back his hand, angrily shaking his head. "You can still turn back, you know. Because I can assure you, what you're going to do is only going to cause more and more trouble."

Ambulon scowled. "What do you want me to do, Extorque?" he demanded. "I can't just stay idle when--"

" _Yes, you can_!"

Ambulon was shocked by the response.

Extorque ran a hand over his head. Inhaled. "Listen," he murmured, "what you saw in the mines - maybe you did see something. But there has to be a perfectly rational explanation behind all this! You're assuming the worst. You're only adding fuel to the fire. You don't know if who you saw was Coaldust - for all we know, Fissure might be working undercover for the Tarnian police!"

Ambulon's face twisted with rage. "Oh, _come on_!" he snapped. "You can't tell me you actually _believe_ such garbage?"

Extorque bristled. "I'm not going to let you make that call, Ambulon," he said, firmly. "For both the sake of your life, and those involved."

"If Fissure's innocent, then what's the problem? If anything, he'd probably have me fired!" Ambulon looked his colleague in the optics again. Past that layer of rage and confusion, and to his surprise, he could see... "You..." He paused, squinted. "You're not telling me something."

Extorque blinked. "What?"

"You're keeping a secret from me," Ambulon said, and at his coworker's poor attempt to hide his grimace, Ambulon knew he was right. "What aren't you telling me, Extorque?" He stepped forward, uncomfortably close.

Extorque said nothing.

"You tell me right now," Ambulon hissed, "or I make the call."

Extorque turned back to his coworker. His optics flared again. "You're so stupid," he grumbled. "You're so damn stupid. You're still a youngling. You've yet to face the harsh truth of reality; everything you've been through is _nothing_ compared to--to _this_. And you're playing with fire here. You're playing with fire, and it's going to _get you killed_."

Ambulon stood his ground. "Tell me what you know, Extorque."

"Damn you!" Extorque snarled. "You want to know my secret?" he snarled, smacking a hand to his chest. Ambulon remained quiet, unmoving. "Here it is then." He sunk forward, and their chassis brushed; the gold medic's EM field nearly suffocated Ambulon's. "I saw something once. Down in the mines. I had been out running an errand when Tightclinch was busy in the field. And I accidentally stumbled on a fight between three security officers and one miner. The miner was on the ground, curled into a ball, arms wrapped over his head to shield himself, as the officers, two of which I knew on a first name basis, kicked and stomped and stepped all over him. Hurling insults, laughing at his pain and misery, and I could see the miner was bleeding, and I was dumb, and I let myself be seen."

Extorque swallowed. "The officers stopped what they were doing. They looked at me, shocked and nervous. The miner even unfurled to see what was going on. But I couldn't say anything; I was speechless from what I just witnessed. And one of the officers, I realized, was Armorshield's second in command. He looked at me, and the shock and rage melted into smarm and amusement. And he told me to leave and to keep my mouth shut, because he could make things hard for me. I knew that. I knew he'd keep to his threat. I knew if I told anyone what I saw, my career was over. And I nodded, and I went to leave, you know; I went to leave, and then I saw _his face_.

"The miner was staring at me. So helpless; pleading, silently begging me to help him. To save him. And I knew then and there that this miner had done nothing to provoke the officers, nothing that would warrant this beating. That the officers were just juvenile sadistic protoforms getting their pistons off watching the weaker and the 'inferior' squirm." Extorque bowed his head. "But I turned away. I turned my back on the miner. I left them; I left the officers to finish their fun. I left the miner to suffer."

Ambulon had been listening in silence, mind reeling with surprise and confusion. "But..."

"The next day, the miner had been discharged from work," Extorque mumbled. He rubbed at his face. "Eye witnesses say he had been caught up in some sort of work related accident. These eye witnesses being the three who had put the miner in his catatonic state. Sharpshift said the miner would be out of commission and taken to the hospital for a few weeks, but he'd return when he made a full recovery."

Ambulon swallowed. "... And did he?" he hesitated. "Did he return?"

Extorque said nothing, his head bowing again.

Ambulon's spark twisted painfully. "Do they-- Do they still do this?"

"I don't know, but those three officers are still working here."

"Who are they?" Ambulon demanded.

"No, I'm not going to give you their names," Extorque hissed. "You'll try and be a fool hero. You're getting in over your head, Ambulon, and you need to stop this _now_. Before it's too late."

"And then what do I do?"

"What I did," Extorque said, sadly. "You know your place, Ambulon. And you're still so young; you still haven't seen society for what it is. You have _no idea_ what this world will do to you if you _ever_ dare question it. It will chew you up and spit you out." He went to touch his coworker's shoulder, but quickly drew his hand back. "If you value your career, even your _life_ , you'll keep quiet. You'll pretend nothing ever happened. And you'll tell Maceforce to do the same."

Extorque expected Ambulon to argue. To yell at him. To tell him off. To call him a coward, to ask him how he even slept at night. Instead, Ambulon was... quiet. It was almost eerie, and Extorque knew there was more to his silence than what he was letting on. A calm before the storm, and he wanted to tell Ambulon to just spit it out. Don't keep things behind his back.

Then again, isn't that how one survived in a place like this?

"You should go," Ambulon said, finally.

Extorque winced. "Remember what I told you, Ambulon," he said, moving for the door. Fixed him with a firm glare. "Don't try to be a martyr."

Extorque left a minute later. Ambulon stared at the door for a few minutes, quiet, unmoving. His head turned, gaze falling on the glowing screen.

Ambulon sat down and typed up his account from that fateful night; what he saw, what he suspected. Doing his best to leave out any details that would incriminate him. When he finished, his hand lingered over the keyboard; press enter, the message would send, and arrive in a matter of seconds at the Tarnian Police Headquarters.

He would never tell Extorque that he was the reason he made up his mind. He would never tell Extorque that, thanks to his story, Ambulon knew what he had to do, once and for all.

Because this was a vicious cycle, and it needed to end.

Ambulon pressed enter and the message was successfully sent on its way.

\---

When Ambulon woke the next day, he had expected chaos.

The mining facility would be a circus of snooping paparazzi, the place crawling with police officers stripping the place apart. There'd be yelling and fighting and maybe even shots fired.

That was the worse case scenario. Ambulon couldn't help but consider it.

However, when he woke and headed into work, everything appeared... normal. Just the start to another, average day. Ambulon walked stiffly to the elevators, suspiciously glancing around, looking for any sign of a Tarnian police officer or _something_ out of place. Yet nothing had changed; the miners shuffled and grumbled and stretched their tired limbs and from above and along the sidelines, guards watched, ever vigilant, optics glowing in the shadows.

Ambulon arrived at the medbay, surprised to find Fissure at work, talking with a patient in an open room. Extorque was fiddling away with datapads, and looked his usual grumpy self. Ambulon turned and peered out the window; Sharpshift was walking with a couple security guards, laughing as he knocked back his morning energon.

Nothing had happened.

Ambulon slowly took a seat at his desk. He looked to Extorque staring at him with a firm glower. Yet there was no anger. It seemed Extorque was under the belief Ambulon had listened to him. He looked back to his datapads again, and Ambulon turned his confused gaze to his blank screen.

If the police had come at night, he would have heard something. _Anything_. Even if Fissure was innocent and guilt-free, would they really only hold him in custody a few hours and then let him go right back to work?

There _had_ to be some explanation. He'd figure it out eventually.

\---

Ambulon tried to maintain a casual demeanor, remain calm and benign. However, he was still flustered. It was noon now, and no sight nor sound of a even one police officer. Ambulon routinely looked out the window every few minutes to see if anyone new had swung by. Maybe they had sent in a detective. Unfortunately, that was not the case, and only the wounded or sick came to speak with Fissure.

While he preferred to stay at the medbay and keep an eye on Fissure, Ambulon was a field medic. He was due for a run around the mines. He almost wanted to ask Extorque to take his place, but that would only arouse suspicion. With no other choice, Ambulon headed back to work.

Usually, he would stop and speak with Zel and his crew. Not today, however; he wanted to finish his run and get back to the medbay as soon as possible. Either way, it appeared they were busy.

During his trip, Ambulon had stopped only twice to make minor repairs or consultations, before he found himself clear in sector six. He found Pinnacle at his usual spot, with his usual gang. Nothing looked out of the ordinary here, either. Ambulon wouldn't speak to Pinnacle about last night; he didn't want to involve anymore people. Still, if the police were going to be snooping around, Pinnacle should know.

Ambulon left without saying a word, however. Pinnacle would be fine. If he told the miner about the possibility of cops returning for a second inspection of some sort, the news would spread like wildfire. Couldn't afford to make things even more complicated.

When Ambulon returned to the medbay a few hours later, everything was in order. Fissure was just getting off his lunch break, and Extorque was just about to take his. Ambulon would be third to take a break, but found he'd lost his appetite.

\---

It was utterly _infuriating_.

By the end of the day, Ambulon wanted to do nothing more but drive to the police headquarters and personally berate them for doing absolutely nothing. He was left, instead, with an anger he could not release or share with anyone. Extorque would only yell at him if he knew the truth, anyway.

"See you tomorrow," Fissure whistled from the door, waving off his colleagues. He left without a care in the world. And Ambulon was so very close to throwing his screen at the door once it shut behind the CMO.

Extorque may not have been in on the truth, but he knew something was bugging Ambulon. "You did good," he said, and forced on a smile.

Ambulon glared at him. "Did good"? Extorque thought he'd just kept his mouth shut and chose to forget what happened. What _good_ was in playing ignorant and willfully putting people's lives on the line? How could Extorque possibly think Ambulon _wouldn't_ say something in a situation like this? This was above just witnessing a couple punks beating up a miner. This was too important to just blow off. And, above all, this only made Ambulon angrier. This sniveling, groveling, cowardly way of thinking.

"I'm going to run a few tests on the Venio spores next meta-cycle," Extorque said. "Would you like to wa--"

Ambulon abruptly stood from his desk and left. He still had an hour left on his shift, but Sharpshift could dock his pay for the day and lecture him tomorrow. Right now, Ambulon needed a drink or something really hard to punch.

\---

Turned out, Ambulon could do neither.

There wasn't a drop of high grade available, and he couldn't just punch anything. The wall was so thin, he'd probably create a nice window between him and his neighbor. Either way, this was not how he should act. He knew he should keep his cool, keep his mind cleared. If he let himself get too angry, he'd do something stupid.

Ambulon returned to his room and laid down. A stasis nap wouldn't do much; it was impossible, in fact, unless he forced a shut down. Besides, he didn't want to sleep, not if there was still a chance someone from the police would come following up on his tip. He drew from his berth and to the window every few minutes, watching. No officers, no unfamiliar faces; the place was deserted expect a few guards and miners wandering about.

Ambulon went back to his berth, stretched out. Buried his face in his hands and scrubbed. Maybe-- Maybe the police were busy inspecting the Saxum mines? Maybe they were out looking for Coaldust? Maybe they had spoken to Fissure privately, away from prying eyes. Maybe they came right to Fissure's door - but surely there'd be some buzzing among the miners about police officers showing up at their CMO's room. Fissure shared living quarters in the same building as the other workers. Or maybe they had spoken to Fissure through a transmission to his computer?

No, that would be ridiculous. They were dealing with a possible suspect involved with the Iacon Bomber. No way would they treat this anonymous tip so casually. They would have immediately sought Fissure out and brought him in for interrogation. Ambulon imagined they'd also send a team to investigate the mines.

Ambulon winced. He didn't want to tell the police about the mines. They were sacred to the miners - at least to the Solus Purists. It felt as if he were indirectly defiling holy ground. And once word got out that lawmen were scurrying about in their blessed ruins, surely the Solus Purists would be in an uproar. They'd probably start a riot; if they knew Ambulon had been the one to give out their secret mines, they'd be coming in droves for his head.

It had to be done, Ambulon told himself. There was no other way. He would risk upsetting the Purists; he would risk his life, even, so long as it saved hundreds more.

_"Don't try to be a martyr."_

"I'm not," Ambulon grumbled to himself and rolled on his side.

\---

"Doc. Doc."

Ambulon mumbled and twitched in his sleep.

"Doc? _Doooooc_."

At the insistent poking and prodding to his cheek, Ambulon woke with a hiss and rolled onto his back, glaring furiously at Tune Out's goofy smile.

"How did--"

"Security overrides, remember?"

"Dammit, Tune Out!" Ambulon cursed into his hands. He hadn't slept much the past few days, and just when he thought he was going to get a good night's rest--

"You broke your promise, doc."

Ambulon slowly lowered his hands, yellow optics peering over his fingertips. Tune Out sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him.

"Pardon?"

"You said you'd talk to Boulderdash for me, remember?"

Ambulon blinked, then sighed. Building tension quickly relaxed. "You two _still_ haven't made up?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

"He's the one being a sore loser," Tune Out scowled. "I mean, we started talking again, but he... I dunno. Something's wrong."

"What do you mean? If you're talking again, doesn't that mean he's forgiven you?"

Tune Out shrugged. "I guess, but... Something's off, doc. He seems more guarded. Like, he used to be all open with me, but now he seems... distant? A little?"

Ambulon frowned. "You did betray his trust, you know."

"Over a stupid card game!"

"Still. It's going to take a while before he can completely trust you again," Ambulon said. He sat up. "Boulderdash has been around for a long time. Far, far longer than you and I. He's probably lost many loved ones. He's not had it so great here, either. And I think you were probably the only good thing he had left."

Tune Out winced. "Don't--don't say that..."

"I think it's true," Ambulon insisted. "I think he values you a lot more than you realize. I think he does see you as his own creation. Like he built you himself. Like you're his family." He sighed. "What you did was stupid, but I agree - it was also something very trivial. Normally anyone else would have long forgiven you and gotten over it. However, Boulderdash is... old. He has a different set of beliefs. And even though you broke his trust even just a little, he's not as strong as he once was. Wounds take a much longer time to heal for him, you see."

Tune Out was quiet, but it was apparent the words had gotten through. He frowned, sadly. "I... I didn't think about it like that..." he mumbled, voice riddled with guilt.

Ambulon tilted his head, smiling slightly. "Don't worry," he said. "Boulderdash will get over it. Things'll go back to normal. Until then, just... keep what I said in mind. And..." He shrugged. "If it seems like a lost cause, I'll step in." Tune Out fixed him with a suspicious glower. Ambulon raised a hand. "I swear it. I won't forget this time."

"Yeah, well," Tune Out grumbled and stood, "I just hope it won't come to that." He rubbed the back of his head. "I... I'll keep trying, I guess. I mean, what else can I do? I've done everything short of getting on my knees and begging."

"You could try that--"

"No!" Tune Out snapped, and the medic growled, raising his hands to silence him. Tune Out whispered an apology. "No. That's just ridiculous."

"We'll see."

"Everything holding up on your end, doc?"

Ambulon shuttered his optics. Sighed and lounged back. "Yeah," he mumbled, "everything's perfect."

Tune Out nodded. "Just let me know if you need anything, and I'll see what I can do."

"Well, for one," Ambulon scowled, "you _could_ try staying at your post and not sneaking off every night?"

The officer snickered. "Don't worry, doc," he reassured, swishing a hand. "I have this route I take. Avoids most of the security cams. Sure, it takes a little longer for me to get around, but at least I ain't on camera."

"Just be careful," Ambulon grumbled. "One day, they're going to catch you and you're going to be in a world of trouble."

Tune Out chuckled. " _Now_ who's being the worrisome creator-type?"

\---

Nothing had changed. When Ambulon woke and headed to work, everything was in order. The same routine. Fissure was filling the medicine closet with new supplies, no worse for wear and mood rather benign. Extorque was with a patient, and Ambulon found his tanks lurch with anger and confusion.

Ambulon had debated calling Maceforce up once Tune Out left last night. However, if the officer had anything to share, he would have come to him. Ambulon spent the morning going through news feeds on his personal console, searching for anything that would suggest his tip had been taken seriously.

Nothing - absolutely nothing. However, there was no mention of any recent bombings; that was good, at least.

Coaldust was still hiding, then, sitting on that nuke. Waiting...

_Thunk!_

"Ow!" Ambulon cursed, stumbling forward. He whipped around, holding the back of his flicked head.

Zing snickered. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. "But you's was spacin' out." He leaned forward. "Everythin' okay, doc?"

"Everything's fine," Ambulon grumbled.

Zing sighed. "It's like ya ain't even tryin' t'hide it!"

"I'm fine. Just... Work's been a little stressful."

Zel powered off his drill and turned to his friends. "Wot waz that? Wark bringin' ya down, luv?" he asked.

Ambulon shrugged.

"Nah, it ain't cuza work," Zing insisted. He got right into the medic's face, earning a scowl. "Yer hidin' somethin', ain'tcha, doc?"

"Jus' leave 'im be, Zing," Kickspeed grumbled. "He ain't in the mood t'talk."

Zing snorted at the young miner. "Yeah, okay, kid. Maybe you can give 'im some flowers t'cheer 'im up, then?"

Kickspeed shook his head as Zing and Zel laughed.

"I'm fine," Ambulon insisted. He turned to Kickspeed. "How have you been?"

"Same," Kickspeed answered, simply. "Can't complain. Ain't gonna do me nuttin'." His sullen attitude had shifted back to normal. Just slightly.

"Well, somethin's eatin' atchyar doc," Zel said. "Anythin' we can do tar 'elp?"

"Just do your work," Ambulon said, "and don't hurt yourselves."

Zing and Zel laughed.

"Yer no fun, doc."

"S'too bad thar ain't a drop o' 'igh grade left 'ere," Zel sighed. "Otherwise, methinks a drink or two is in order far yar, doc."

Zing raised a finger, grin widening. "On the contrary, me friends," he snickered. Flipping open the panel on his hip, the twiggy miner removed a small, rusty flask. He showed it to Ambulon, who was about to fly off into a tangent-- "I don't put enough in here t'get me overcharged, doc. Jus' enough t'keep me CPU clear, know what I mean?" He shook the flask, energon inside sloshing about. "You take it."

Ambulon snorted. "I can't drink on the job. _None_ of us can, even if it's--"

"Jus' take it, luv," Zel interjected.

Ambulon frowned. He looked to the flask, then Zing's big, devious smile. "If this is the same high grade from the bar," he said, "you know my systems can't handle it."

"It's low quality scrap, admittedly," Zing grumbled, "but it's better than nothin', right?"

"If it 'elps," Zel offered, "Zing ain't nevar gotten overcharged or slipped up causa drinkin' durin' wark." He nudged Kickspeed in the arm. "Tell 'im."

Kickspeed scowled. "He hasn't," he agreed. "An' if he had, I woulda said somethin'."

"Traitor!"

"Fah."

Ambulon finally took the flask. "Thatta boy!" Zing laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout fillin' it back up. Got me a small stash back in me room."

"Right," Ambulon grumbled. He placed the flask in a spare compartment. "Well, I--"

_Medic._

Ambulon blinked, optics flashing. He turned away, opening the emergency commlink channel. His friends stayed quiet, curious. "State the nature of the emergency," Ambulon ordered, getting ready to transform.

_No emergency. Not entirely._

Ambulon recognized that voice. His optics shifted to glance at Zing, Zel, and Kickspeed watching. He turned, then, and took a few steps away. Thankfully, they did not follow. "Pinnacle?" Ambulon muttered some seconds later.

_That's right. And I need you down here. Now._

"Is something--"

_You got five kliks, medic._

Ambulon cursed as the transmission ended abruptly. He closed the commlink and turned back to the miners. "Get back to work," he said, and they smiled and saluted. He transformed and took off, driving a bit faster than allowed.

\---

It was the cold tone that worried Ambulon the most. Though having not known the miner for very long, Pinnacle was furious. The biting edge in his voice was almost hidden by ennui. However, Ambulon knew better.

It was impossible to arrive in Pinnacle's sector in under five minutes. Ambulon could only speed if it was an emergency. Though for a moment he thought about switching on his sirens, that was a bad idea. That would draw too much attention. So Pinnacle would have to wait a little longer; he'd understand, if indeed he was a rational mech.

Fifteen minutes later, Ambulon arrived; transforming, he moved on his feet. Pinnacle was not in his usual spot with his followers. Though they were hard at work, Ambulon could feel the tension. They were concerned, worried, and a little upset.

Something was wrong.

Before Ambulon could ask where Pinnacle was, one miner approached him. There was a scar across his right optic, and Ambulon vaguely remembered seeing him in the medbay once. Extorque had been treating him - right, the cut on his face. It seemed, however, the miner preferred to keep the scar.

The miner said nothing, just nodded for Ambulon to follow. It was a little daunting, and Ambulon couldn't help but feel as if he were walking into a trap. Nonetheless, he followed; the miners cast him wary, annoyed glances, but remained mostly focused on their work. The scarred mech led Ambulon into a small cave, lit by electric torches. There was a small rail road, and as they walked further into the cave, they crossed two half-empty carts.

The miner grunted and held out a hand, forcing Ambulon to stop. He moved ahead a few steps, and Ambulon could hear him talking with someone else. He craned his head, trying to see who the second mech was without moving. He was sure it was Pinnacle, but... Ambulon really wished he had quicker access to the taser weapon he carried.

The scarred miner gestured him over. Ambulon cautiously walked ahead, and looked down at Pinnacle. The hefty miner sat on a makeshift bench carved into the rock. His EM field was tightly restrained and stressed, but outwardly, he appeared calm but serious. He said something in a language Ambulon did not understand, and the scarred miner let them be.

The two remained in silence until the miner's footfalls disappeared.

Pinnacle produced a small cygar, twisted off the edge; with a _pop_ , it lit up. He took a deep drag, smoke venting from the corners of his mouth. He glanced to Ambulon, fishing out another cygar. Held it out to him.

"No thanks," Ambulon replied. First high grade, now a cygar; soon, he was going to be offered Stims.

Pinnacle pocketed the second cygar. After another inhale, he said, finally, "One of my contacts in Tarn just sent me a message."

"Who?"

Pinnacle gave him a look. Right, it was a stupid question.

"What was the message?" Ambulon asked. He figured he was entitled to know this much.

Smoke trickled from Pinnacle's mouth. "He reports there were a few Tarnian officers in the Saxum mines yesterday," he said. Ambulon's spark jumped in its chamber. The miner glowered at him. "They found an entrance - the entrance I showed you and your medic friend."

Ambulon swallowed. "You..."

"The only outsiders who know of the entrance are you and Extorque. And my people would _never_ give away the location of the mines."

"So, you think it was one of us?" Ambulon asked, keeping a straight face.

Smoke curled in the dusty air. "Seems you've caught on."

"You don't know it was us," Ambulon insisted. "More outsiders could know about the mines. You can tell yourself they're a tight-lipped secret, but you and I both know that's not true."

Pinnacle sized Ambulon head to foot. "It just seems... interesting," he said, calmly, "that the Saxum mines have remained mostly untouched for cycles now, but a meta-cycle after taking you and Extorque down, they're suddenly crawling with insectoids."

Ambulon was quiet a moment. "Who else knows about this?"

"Only myself," Pinnacle said. "I ordered my contact to keep quiet. If anyone else knew, if _Truncheon_ knew--"

"Truncheon?" Ambulon interrupted. A bad idea, he knew, but...

Pinnacle grumbled, taking a hard suck on his cygar. "I wanted to keep this between the family," he growled, "but..." His face was temporarily obscured by a cloud of smoke. "Truncheon is my rival. He is second in running for leadership of the Solus Purists." Dark eyes fell on Ambulon. "You know him as M-77. He's Extorque's patient, but he doesn't visit the medbay often. Only unless it's mandatory. He doesn't trust any of you, and... I can't blame him."

"What happens if Truncheon hears the news?"

Pinnacle sighed. "All Pit breaks loose." He snorted at the medic's alarmed face. "Truncheon believes the only way to defeat our enemies, to rise in power, is through violence. He is ruthless, cruel, but insanely brilliant." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And, I fear, more of my brothers are joining his side. Whereas I wish to find equality as a pacifist, he desires nothing but power and domain over the insectoids - over those who are not of us."

"Do you think he'll start a riot?" Ambulon asked.

"Oh, it'll be more than a riot," Pinnacle scowled. "It'll be a _massacre_."

Ambulon frowned. "He can't possibly think--"

"Even if he dies, he'll go out like a martyr. He knows if he were to die in battle, fighting for his people, for his beliefs, it will only be the beginning of his so-called rise to power. To immortality. He'll be revered as a hero, and soon more and more will see his sacrifice as noble and just, and join the cause. More will join him. More will fight and destroy. More will kill and take innocent lives, fueled only by their anger and prejudice." Pinnacle chuckled, shoulders bouncing. "And when he dies, you better believe he's not going down alone."

Ambulon was quiet a minute. He looked up. "... You know it's only a matter of time," he said. "He's going to find out. Whether by himself, through his own contacts, or through one of yours."

Pinnacle rolled the cygar to one corner of his mouth. "It's inevitable, yes."

"What do you plan to do?"

Pinnacle looked him right in the optics. "Talk."

"Talk? Will he even listen?"

"I'll make him, if I have to," the miner insisted. "He has to see violence is not the way. It is not _our_ way. And the reason Sickle and Scythe failed as leaders was because they relied too much on force. It was violence that brought upon their downfall."

"They were assassinated, right?" Ambulon asked. "Did you ever catch the culprits?"

Pinnacle slowly shook his head. "But..." He took another hard drag. "I'm looking into it. I think they may also have had a hand in the attempt on my spark."

"This is getting dangerous."

Pinnacle laughed, bitterly. "This is nothing," he said. "It will only get worse if I fail. If I can't get through to Truncheon, I fear there's nothing we can do." He massaged his forehead. "Truncheon puts on a brotherly facade when around me. He pretends I am dear to him; that he sees me not as a rival, but as an equal. That he would even wish to rule beside me. But I'm no idiot - I know he hates me. And I know it's not going to be easy to stop him from doing anything once he's made up his mind."

Ambulon ran a hand over his helm. "There's got to be some way we can help--"

"Tell me who leaked the information."

Ambulon closed his mouth.

"Was it you?" Pinnacle demanded, optics narrowing to slits. "Or was it Extorque?"

Ambulon felt a chill wrap tight around his spark. "If I tell you," he said, calmly, "what will you do?"

Pinnacle studied the medic a few seconds. Ambulon wore the perfect poker face, completely and utterly composed. Pinnacle cursed and smashed the cygar angrily into the rock, crushing it. Ambulon flinched but did not move.

Pinnacle rose quickly to his feet and got into the medic's face. "Damn you," he hissed, optics flaring, "Solus _damn you_."

That cold chill ran down Ambulon's backstrut. "We weren't the only ones in the mines, Pinnacle," he said, and he could feel the hatred and fury pour off the miner and choke his own EM field. "I... I didn't want to say anything to you, in fear of... something like this happening. I didn't want to involve any unnecessary--"

"The Saxum mines are _my business_!" Pinnacle barked, coolant spittle hitting Ambulon's face.

"I had to say something, all right!?" Ambulon snarled. "I saw Fissure down in those mines, and he was speaking to who I believe was Coaldust. You know of him, right? The Iacon Bomber? And I think Fissure was negotiating something with him. Over a very powerful looking nuclear bomb."

Pinnacle's glare remained bright and angry. He didn't believe what the medic was telling him.

"Lives are on the line!" Ambulon snapped. "I had to tell the police! If I didn't, Coaldust would nuke an entire fragging city with that bomb! The causalities would be immense! And I--"

Pinnacle suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, yanked him closer. Their chestplates smashed, and Ambulon tried his best not to wince under the crushing grip. Pinnacle lowered his head, face to face now, cycling hot, heavy air that smelled of cygar smoke and crude energon. Ambulon waited, waited for the killing blow, waited for anything--

"You better hope it was worth it, medic."

Ambulon blinked, surprised, before he was roughly shoved aside. He grabbed at his shoulder, finger-shaped dents in the plating. Pinnacle stepped back, forcing down his rage. "And you best keep your mouth shut," he growled. "If anyone finds out you leaked the whereabouts of the Saxum mines, there is no force on Cybertron that can help save your sorry aft."

Ambulon just watched him closely, massaging his sore shoulder. Pinnacle jerked his head to the side. "Get," he ordered, "before I do something I know I'll forever regret."

Ambulon took a moment to collect his bearings. He looked Pinnacle in the optics, then back to the ground. Without a word, he turned and left.

\---

Forcing himself to finish his shift around the mines, Ambulon's systems and nerves finally settled a half hour later. He had no idea what was going to happen, but... despite everything, he had faith in Pinnacle. To at least do the right thing. The idea of the miners uprising... They could overpower security, take down their more pacifistic brothers and comrades. Even if it was a small battle, even if it didn't get very far, the repercussions would be tremendous, just as Pinnacle said.

Ambulon finished a few minor repairs before taking a break. He flopped down on the ground, away from prying eyes, and removed the flask from his spare compartment.

\---

Ambulon arrived back at the medbay twenty minutes later with a headache and a disgusting aftertaste in his mouth. Yet he drank the damn flask empty. Oh, well. Zing said not to worry about it, and Ambulon already had enough to worry about. Nonetheless, he wasn't buzzed - though honestly he wished he was - just... more annoyed than before.

At least it wasn't obvious he'd been drinking. Ambulon stepped inside and took a seat at his desk. Pretended to pay attention to his work. His CPU was still racing in between the dull throbs of pain. About Pinnacle, about Fissure, about everything. Fissure himself was still sitting smug at his desk, finishing up a report. Extorque was busy with a patient, leaving the two by themselves.

And Ambulon hoped--

"You doin' all right there, kid?"

Ambulon cursed internally. He looked to Fissure, forcing a smile. "Tired," he said. "Got a bit of a headache."

"Hmm," the CMO mumbled, tapping his chin. "You do seem a bit stressed. Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing, really."

"That's good," Fissure said and smiled. "Wouldn't want our new medic falling apart so soon, you know."

Ambulon repressed a twitch. "No," he agreed, and looked back to his screen, "can't have that."

Ten minutes later, Extorque emerged, sending his patient away. Ambulon recognized him - one of the miners in Pinnacle's inner circle. He glanced back at Extorque, as if expecting something to happen. The medic did cast him a strange look before frowning again and taking his seat. Ambulon wanted to ask him what was wrong, but with Fissure here... Best to pretend everything was fine.

\---

Through the half hour, Ambulon noticed Extorque occasionally looking over at him, as if he wanted to say something. Too nervous, however, and he bit his tongue. Ambulon tried to remain focused on his work, but he kept catching Extorque staring at him from the reflection on his screen. His optics shifted every once and a while to Fissure, who moved from his desk to the medicine closet, stopping once to tend to a patient.

Forty-five minutes later, and Fissure clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "That was my last patient for the day," he said. He switched off his console, gathered a couple datapads. He nodded once at Ambulon then once at Extorque. "See you tomorrow."

Fissure left a minute later. Ambulon watched him go from the window. As soon as the coast was clear, he turned to speak to Extorque-- Suddenly, a datapad was dropped loudly on his keyboard. Ambulon's optics shuttered; he looked from Extorque standing beside him, then to the datapad.

Ambulon picked up the datapad, and started to read.

"Breaking news. Happened about three groons ago," Extorque explained as Ambulon's optics got wider. "They found Coaldust. Dead, blown to smithereens. Body parts scattered everywhere for half a mega-mile. Police believe it had been an accident with one of his bombs; they found his hidey hole nearby. Old factory. Ten bombs, but not a single one of them nuclear. Not a single one of them like the one you described."

Ambulon whipped his head back. "They're probably just leaving that detail out," he insisted. "It could cause some sort of mass hysteria if they--"

"I think _you're_ the one being hysterical," Extorque interrupted. "They confirmed the body was Coaldust, by the way. In case you were thinking it might have been a dummy. It was the real Coaldust." He poked at the datapad. "And, if you'll note, they found him and his workshop in Lotophagi - that's nearly half-way across Cybertron."

Ambulon growled. "That doesn't mean anything! He had enough time to travel from Tarn to Lotophagi."

Extorque frowned. "Are you so sure that you didn't mistake--"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ambulon hissed and pushed aside the datapad. "You don't believe me, and that's fine. But I'm not going to talk about it anymore. Not with you."

"Ambulon--"

"Either the news is covering it up," Ambulon said, firmly, "or there's still a nuclear bomb out there left unaccounted for."

Extorque slammed his hands on Ambulon's desk, getting in his face. "Dammit, Ambulon!" he snarled. "You need to let this thing go! It's going to drive you crazy!"

"But I can't--"

"You keep digging into this, you keep making these radical assumptions, and I'm afraid something's going to happen to you. And I can't help you if - when - it does." Extorque looked imploringly into Ambulon's optics. "Please. _Leave it alone_. Or things are only going to get so much worse."

Ambulon sighed and looked away. "I thank you for your concern, but... I'll be fine."

"If you keep pursuing this, you _will_ get hurt," Extorque insisted. "So... Stop. Just... Stop."

Ambulon looked back into Extorque's worried gaze. He said, "I can't stop what's already started."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but "sweet".

Ambulon frowned.

According to both Tarnian, Iaconian, and Vosian news, Coaldust's death had been ruled out as an accident. One of his bombs had malfunctioned during assembly. Lotophagia residents had noticed the explosion a mile away from town, in an abandoned oil refinery, and called the police. There was no other explanation, no reason to suspect foul play. It had been an accident and for many, a fortunate one. There wasn't a single datazine that mentioned any sort of nuclear bomb in Coaldust's factory - none that described what Ambulon had seen down in the Saxum mines.

It was utterly infuriating.

Ambulon knew he should at least be glad Coaldust was no longer a threat. Yet the nuclear bomb - it had to have been omitted from the press, or perhaps placed somewhere prior to Coaldust's death. A ticking time bomb, maybe, or perhaps it would stay dormant forever where it had been planted. Either way, this wasn't good, and Ambulon still needed to know _why_ Fissure had been down there negotiating and pawning off bombs in the first place.

It'd been almost two days since Coaldust's death was announced worldwide. Ambulon had returned to work, putting on a carefree facade. It seemed to work with Fissure and most of his colleagues, except Extorque suspected something was off. He said nothing either way, and for a while, it felt as if their relationship had become stiff and jilted, just like before.

Zing, Zel, and Kickspeed seemed to have caught on to his discomfort and uneasiness. Though whenever they tried to get Ambulon to talk about it, he would either leave or abruptly change the subject. Ambulon had gone to see Pinnacle, but he remained elusive, and his men were keen on keeping his whereabouts secret. Whether the news about the police raiding the Saxum mines had been released among the miners and Purists yet remained a mystery, but so far there had been no riots or fights.

Day three, and Ambulon was beginning to lose hope. That all changed, however, later that night, when there was a small knock at his door.

Ambulon stood from his bed, shuttered his bright optics in the dark room. He peered out the small frosted window, Maceforce fidgeting at the door. He quickly let the officer inside, surprised. "What is it?" he asked, immediately assuming it was a medical emergency.

"Check this out," Maceforce said. He quickly shut and locked the door before leading Ambulon to his desk. Sat down a couple datapads. "It wasn't easy, but," he said, smiling excitedly, "I got dirt on Fissure."

Ambulon's optics widened. "What?"

"I did some research, got some help from a few pals in the know," Maceforce chuckled, very proud of himself. He offered Ambulon one datapad. "According to this, Fissure worked nearly fifty-nine years at Iacon City Hospital. He was a skilled surgeon and very well respected among his colleagues. Fissure quit a few years back, moving to Tarn and transferring his work here to the facility. Cites it was due to exhaustion and also for 'change of scenery'. That I guess the hospital was becoming too stressful an environment for him."

" _To the mines_?"

"Yeah, see, I didn't believe it either," Maceforce said. He tapped the datapad in Ambulon's hands. "But a little more digging and some... persuasive talk with one of the senior security officers at the hospital revealed the _real_ reason he left Iacon."

Ambulon read the datapad quickly; toward the end, his optics widened. He glanced up at Maceforce, shocked. "Malpractice?"

"Right!" Maceforce exclaimed, almost a bit too loudly. "Apparently, a lawsuit had been filed against him for malpractice. Supposedly a patient died in his care due to circumstances that, unfortunately, I wasn't able to pull up. In fact, the entire malpractice thing has been covered up really well. There's hardly any information on the case, and what had happened, and those who were involved. But it apparently shook the hospital's shining reputation enough to bury and protect their dirty little secret from the public."

Maceforce placed a second 'pad on the first. "I've got a friend who works for the Iacon PD, and they were able to pull up Fissure's track record. It's pretty clean, but there was one part that was apparently restricted and only available to senior officers. Namely, their chief of police. He couldn't hack it without risking being caught, but obviously something's being covered up."

"Anything in regards to the lawsuit?"

"No. But it wasn't pretty, as I've gathered," Maceforce sighed. "The hospital cleaned up the mess perfectly. But there is one last thing..." He took the final 'pad, handed it to Ambulon. "About a week before Fissure's retirement, he got into an argument with one of his nurses, a mech named Ligator. No one knows what happened, but a day later, Ligator placed a restraining order on Fissure. The security officer at the hospital and my friend at the IPD told me this much, at least, but I guess two days after he filed a restraining order, Ligator dropped it, quit his job, and moved to Tragus."

"Tragus?"

"The boondocks. Deep country. Far, _far_ away from Iacon," Maceforce explained. "I've called him once or twice on a private line in town before he finally answered four orns later. When I asked him about Fissure, he went all quiet and just said Fissure was an 'old coworker and nothing more' before hanging up." The officer frowned. "I knew he was scared. I knew the minute he went quiet he was hiding something."

"So he told you nothing?" Ambulon asked.

"Not a damn thing," Maceforce sighed. "But the point is, our CMO isn't as squeaky clean as we all thought and believed. He's definitely been in some dirty business. Enough to keep it hidden from the public; enough to put restricted access on his file at IPD. And enough to make what was apparently a promising doctor-to-be up and quit suddenly and disappear half-way across the planet." He slapped the 'pad. "Ligator's file is pretty clean, too; when I looked into his history in Tragus, all I got was a place of residence and the fact that he now spends his time working at a dock nearby, loading and unloading boxes." The officer snorted. "I mean, what sort of self-respecting, highly esteemed medic leaves his job to become a laborer?"

Ambulon frowned. "One afraid for his life, maybe?"

"You think Fissure was threatening him?"

"I think Ligator was threatening _him_ ," Ambulon suggested. "He had to have known something. And Fissure - maybe with his reputation - was able to bully him into silence. Send him packing. Probably threaten to ruin his career. Or worse..."

Maceforce's arched a brow. "Worse as in how...?"

Ambulon remained quiet. He skimmed through the datapads again. "Right," he sighed. "These are great. A job well done. But are you sure you weren't caught? Are you sure you've cleaned up your tracks?"

Maceforce beamed. "Yup! There was only one time where I was worried, though," he said, and Ambulon's optics paled. "I thought my commander, Draftwind, saw me looking through ICH files. Fortunately, he didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!"

Ambulon sighed. "Let's hope so." He sat the datapads on the desk. "Thanks again, Maceforce. I'm sure we're onto something, and your help has been tremendous."

Maceforce's optics brightened. "It's no problem, sir," he reassured. "If Fissure's causin' trouble, it's my duty to stop him."

"As long as you do so quietly and without getting caught, mind you."

"Right," Maceforce chuckled. He pat Ambulon on the back. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Take care, doc."

"You, too."

Ambulon saw Maceforce out, shut the door, and listened to his fading footfalls. He slowly turned, looked back at the datapads on his desk.

He wasn't sure if he was feeling validated, or scared.

\---

Ambulon read through the datapads one last time before packing them away and heading to bed.

In the morning, he woke, had his cube of energon, and headed for work with the rest of the miners. It felt like another typical day. The stress and disappointment Ambulon had been harboring had lifted somewhat, now that he knew Fissure was hiding something. That even if Fissure had nothing to do with Coaldust, that he still had secrets he was keeping. Secrets that forced a great city doctor to now work in the dirt and grime miles beneath Cybertron.

Still, Ambulon couldn't do much of anything. He'd need more information before he could go to the police. When he arrived at the medbay, Fissure was with a patient, and Extorque was sorting through some files.

Ambulon flopped into his seat, booting up his computer. Extorque looked up from the pile of datapads, optics shuttering. He noticed the lack of usual tension in Ambulon's posture.

"You feelin' better?" Extorque asked, returning to sifting through the files.

Ambulon shrugged. "I got some good recharge," he answered.

Extorque smirked. "I see." He didn't believe it, but wasn't about to question Ambulon. "So," he said a second later, seperating the files into three piles. "You still want to join me for Deceptor's dissection?"

Ambulon blinked. "Oh," he said, quickly remembering, "when's that again?"

"Tomorrow, maybe, if I'm not too busy."

Ambulon bobbed his head. "Sure."

Extorque pushed over one pile of datapads. "Here's your appointments for the day," he explained.

Ambulon sighed. "The piles seem to get bigger and bigger everyday."

Extorque chuckled. "Well, comes with the territory."

"Good mornin', boys," Fissure said, suddenly, emerging from one of the exam rooms. He saw his patient off with a pat on the back then sat at his desk. "How are you all doin'?" he asked, big smile on his face.

"The usual," Extorque sighed.

"Can't complain," Ambulon replied.

Fissure chuckled. "It's still early," he said, turning to his computer, "your spirits'll be up soon."

\---

Ambulon had four physicals to run before he could go out on the field.

They had all been routine. Boring. Nothing out of the ordinary. Standard stuff. But Ambulon was happy he was getting more patients, at least. It was a step up, from one or two patients a day. When his fourth patient arrived, he was surprised to find it was the same scarred miner who had taken him to Pinnacle not long ago. His optics were dark as the look on his face, and Ambulon was a little hesitant to call him in.

Getting over his apprehension, he sat the miner down. He went by the name of Scar, which was no surprise. Ambulon kept things professional and calm as he went about the physical. Scar did not speak, not even once, watching him closely. As if he were picking the smaller 'bot apart. Ambulon pretended he hadn't noticed, but he could feel those eyes bore pressure on his back.

Toward the end of the physical, Ambulon finally sighed and looked up. "How is Pinnacle?" he asked, very quietly.

Scar narrowed his optics.

"Is he... Did he..." Ambulon swallowed. Inched in closer, speaking in a tiny voice. "Did he speak with Trunch--"

"Bite your tongue, medic," Scar hissed, and his voice sounded like gravel. Ambulon winced. Light burned in those optics. The miner stood, keeping his glare on Ambulon's bowed head.

Ambulon swallowed again. "We're finished," he said, opening the curtain. He stepped aside for Scar to leave. "I'll contact you tomorrow with the results."

Scar squinted. He snorted, then, and headed off, his presence and glare still pushing down on Ambulon's chest even when he was gone.

"Someone's grumpy," Fissure chuckled, scribbling stylus on a datapad. He looked to Ambulon. "You run a waste filter check on him?"

Ambulon's frown twitched. "I should take off," he said, placing the datapad to be filed away later. He was all too happy to leave the medbay, a weight slowly lifting from his spark.

He'd need to speak to Pinnacle. Soon. And if he had to face down his lackeys to do so, he would. For now, however, he had work to tend to.

\---

Things had been going well. Ambulon was half way into his field run; saw two patients for minor scrapes and small wounds. Easy repairs. He spent most of his time looping and driving through familiar territory. He'd seen it day in and day out the past few months, but the depths, and sometimes the way light caught on the bulging energon crystals - it was still a sight to behold. Spiraling caverns and tunnels, dug by the hands of hardworking mechs. It took years to carve out these mines, and in its own way, was a beautiful masterpiece in progress.

_Doc!_

Ambulon braked to a halt. It was Zing on the emergency medical line.

"What is it?" Ambulon asked, staying in place. It wasn't the first time Zing used this line to chatter.

_Um. I... I think somethin's wrong. Somethin's wrong wit' Zel._

Ambulon knew by his tone he was not joking. Zing was restraining most of his fear, but Ambulon knew. "I'm on my way," he said, making a quick u-turn and speeding off. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Can you describe any physical symptoms, if any?"

_I... I dunno, doc. He just... He's havin' a hard time tawkin'. Yanno Zel. That ain't normal. Him havin' a hard time tawkin'. He says he's... he's got a real bad headache. An' that he feels really hot an'... an' I dunno._

"What else? How does he look?"

_W-Well, he's just sittin' down now. Kinda got his face in his hands. He's really warm, too. An' his vents are goin' a little crazy. Kickspeed ran off t'get a super._

"Right, okay," Ambulon said, his engine roaring, "I'm almost there. Just keep him calm. Have him stay still. Don't move him. Stay with him, talk to him."

 _R-Right, but... I don't think he's in a tawkin' mood. He's kinda... kinda surly. Like, he's real grumpy er somethin'._ A pause. _Somethin' ain't right, doc. Somethin's wrong, and I..._

Ambulon waited a moment. "And you what?"

_I-- I'll tell ya when ya get here._

Not good. Ambulon floored his accelerator until he heard his engine scream and tires squeal.

\---

Five minutes later, Ambulon arrived at Zing, Zel, and Kickspeed's work site Ambulon transformed and slid down the side of the steep hill from the road, down to the workers below. Zing sat in front of Zel, who looked as if he were curled up into a ball. A few miners huddled away, nervously watching, confused and concerned. No sign of Kickspeed or their group's commander.

"I'm here," Ambulon announced, taking a deep breath.

Zing bolted upright. "Thank Primus." He looked back to Zel. "Heya, Zel. Am's here. He's gonna fix ya right up." He placed a comforting hand to Zel's shoulder, gave it a pat - Ambulon winced when Zel angrily slapped him away. Zing looked wounded and shocked, but kept quiet. Slowly turned and gestured Ambulon over.

Ambulon knelt beside Zel, opening his medikit. "Let me run a basic scan," he mumbled, scanner flipping over one optic. As he studied Zel, he noticed the big miner was shaking. "Has he been shaking like this?" he asked, looking to Zing.

Zing shook his head. "That jus' started right before ya got here," he explained. Even he was a little shaky. He waited a minute, letting Ambulon continue his scan, before asking, "Is he gonna be awright, doc? What's wrong wit' him?"

"I don't know," Ambulon mumbled. "My scanner isn't picking up any surface injuries."

"Wat's dat mean?"

"It's something internal. We'll need to get him back to the medbay for a complete diagnostic scan."

Suddenly, with a fierce, low croak, Zel grumbled, "Ain't... ain't nuttin' wrong. I'll be... foine. Gimme... gimme klik."

Ambulon frowned. "Your core temperature's ten knots above average. Your sparkpulse is erratic. I'd say you _do_ need--"

"Ain't nuttin' wrong!" Zel snarled, lifting his head. His once friendly, bright optics were now red at the edges, violent and angry. He looked infuriated, and Zing stumbled back, wincing. Suddenly, the anger drained from Zel's face, and he swallowed dryly. "I... It ain't narthin', doc, promise..." He looked sadly, a bit ashamed, at Zing. "I'm fine, Zing. Ain't no reason ta... ta be worried. I jus'... jus' got me--" With a painful grimace, he pushed his face back in his shaking hands.

"No," Ambulon grumbled, standing. "We need to get you to the medbay."

"B-Before you do, doc."

Ambulon blinked and looked back. Zing was fussing nervously behind him. He looked to his sick friend, then back to the medic, before gesturing him aside. Ambulon followed, looking between Zing and Zel. "What is it?" he asked, once they were out of ear shot.

Zing looked embarrassed. "... I ain't s'pose t'be tellin' you this," he mumbled, chewing his bottom lip. Glanced to Zel as the miner growled. "Zel told... Zel told me dis in private. Said don't tell no one else, but... I trust you's, doc. I don't trust none of the others."

"What happened?"

"The... The other night, Zel said--"

"I got 'im!" Kickspeed suddenly shouted, running over to the group. Ambulon looked up, shocked to see the officer tailing after him.

"Maceforce?" Ambulon was confused. "What are you...?"

"Storm's out sick," Maceforce explained, "so I've got his shift today." He turned to Zel. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

Ambulon went to answer before Zing suddenly squeezed his arm. He flinched, and looked back at the concerned miner. Sighed and replied to Maceforce, "Give me a klik. Just watch Zel closely, okay?"

"Will do."

Ambulon turned back to Zing. "What is--?"

"They told 'im somethin' was wrong wit' his system. Durin' the flush, his results came back wit' somethin' abnormal. They gave 'im dis--dis medicine dat Zel said would patch 'im up. But they said Zel wasn't t'tell no one 'bout it, 'cause I guess the med's still in a trial run or somethin', I dunno." Zing wrung his hands together, looking worriedly back to his friend. Maceforce was attempting to speak with Zel, who remained quiet. "B-But he told me, cuz I'm his best buddy, yanno? I said I wouldn't tell no ones, but..."

Ambulon felt something drop in his tanks. "Who? Who gave him the medicine?" he demanded. "Did he tell you what the medicine was?"

"N-No, dunno, he dinnit tell me much before he suddenly got all weird like dis," Zing mumbled. "I mean, dis mornin' he was movin' a l'il sluggish, but I jus' thought it was cuz he was tired. But... But I'm tellin' ya, doc... I'm tellin' ya..." He flinched. "Doc, I don't wanna believe it, but I know's what dis looks like. I know what _Zel_ looks like. It's like he's havin' withdrawals."

"Withdrawals?"

"Yeah, like he's--"

The noise that followed was horrific, sending Ambulon and Zing into full body shudders. They whipped around, shocked, terrified at the violent, wild roar. A snap second later, and Zel had Maceforce in both his big hands, raised above his head. He screamed loud and bloody murder, frothing at the mouth, his optics red and protruding.

"Z-Zel!?" Zing shrieked, stumbling.

"Put him down!" Ambulon ordered.

Zel just screamed again and slammed the officer into the ground. The observing miners quickly fled, save Kickspeed, who could only watch frozen in terror. Maceforce attempted to go for his stun gun, but then Zel was lifting him off the ground again. Slammed him down, over and over.

"Stop that! Zel!" Ambulon gasped. He removed his own stun gun, running at Zel. "Put him down, Zel!" he ordered, aiming.

Zel glared back at Ambulon. The chill he sent through the medic's backstrut caused him to lock up. He wasn't looking at the friendly miner anymore, but a wild, furious animal. Zel threw Maceforce at Ambulon, the two falling back and rolling along the ground. Ambulon quickly pushed himself up on all fours, looked to Maceforce. The officer was unconscious, but alive, bleeding from various dents and tears along his chassis.

Zel screamed again; close, too close. Ambulon looked up; the miner was moving for him, hands reaching out to--

"Zel! Zel! _Stop_!"

Zel paused, slowly lowering his hands. He looked down at Zing, the smaller miner clinging to his side. "Stop it! Yer sick, buddy! Ya gotta calm down!" he shouted. He managed to yank Zel back, giving Ambulon room to pull Maceforce to safety.

The large miner growled but remained in place. Listening. Zing slowly let him go, standing before him. "I dunno wat's wrong, but ya can't--" He shook his head, clenching shaking fists. Looked deep into Zel's too-red optics. "C'mon, buddy! Git it t'gether! Whateva's wrong wit' you, they're gonna fix! Ya just gotta calm down, okay?"

Zel was heaving, his hands hanging limply at his sides. Coolant continued to drip hot and steamy from his gaping mouth. Zing very carefully reached forward, placing his smaller hands on Zel's. "Yer gonna be okay, buddy, okay?" he cooed, trying his best to remain calm for his friend. He smiled, something weak and crooked. "Lissun t'yer ole buddy Zing, okay? Yer sparktwin, yanno, I know what I'm tawkin' about." He tittered, squeezing Zel's hands. They were hot, almost too hot. "An' Ambulon's gonna patch ya up. Ya just need ta--"

Zing startled, blinking wide optics, when Zel suddenly latched onto his arms. He looked up, and that recognition from before had disappeared. Replaced with something primitive, angry.

"Zel?" Zing muttered, his smile disappearing. "You--"

The loud _crunch_ echoed along the walls, and Ambulon felt his tanks churn. Zel tore his large, strong hand through Zing's chest. Clean through, holding the miner's spark in his bloodied hand. Zing's optics widened, twitched; his body jolted as Zel pulled his hand back out, taking the spark with it.

Zing looked up at Zel, horrified, confused, his optics flickering. Zel stared at the spark in his hand, back to Zing. With a _crunch_ , the spark was crushed in his fatal grip.

" _No_!" Ambulon screamed, his own spark stopping dead in his chest.

Zel shrieked, throwing the remains of Zing's spark onto the ground. He hefted his dying body into the air, and angrily tore it into two pieces. Energon and metal, circuits and pumps, rained down on him, painting the ground in gore. Ambulon saw Zing's head lulling back, dim optics staring at the doctor; he watched as they flickered once, twice, before turning blank and black.

Ambulon couldn't believe what he was seeing. He could barely move, consumed with fear and horror. But as Zel went about throwing aside the pieces of his friend he had murdered, anger suddenly pushed adrenaline through the medic's circuits. Ambulon jumped to his feet as Zel went to stalk off, find new victims.

"Hey!" Ambulon snarled. He removed the flask Zing had loaned him from a hip compartment. Pitched it at Zel's head. It hit with a small _ting_ , and the giant miner halted. Ambulon quickly moved away from Maceforce, going for his fallen stun gun.

Despite his size, Zel was fast. Ambulon had the gun in his hand, raised and fired it. The shock tore through Zel's side, but it wasn't enough. His systems were bursting with power, a deadly force that Ambulon could not match. Ambulon went to fire again, but Zel bashed the gun from his hand, reached down and took him by the throat.

Ambulon gagged, grabbing and clawing at the hand, coated in Zing's energon, clamped tight around his neck. Zel snickered, his red optics brightening; with a grunt, he thrust Ambulon against the wall, pushed him into the rock until metal began to creak and bend.

"Z-Z-el s-st--stop--" Ambulon heaved. The fingers tightened around his throat. He tore at Zel's wrist desperately. One optic flickered offline; he looked into the miner's bloodied face, pleading. "Pl... Please... It... me... Am... Amb..." He gasped as he was yanked back then slammed into the rock again, head bouncing off the hard surface. His optic flickered back online only to die all together, leaving him half-blind.

Ambulon's vents sputtered as he sucked in dirty air. "Z... el..." he croaked, and he could feel sharp edges bury into his back, piercing through layers of armor one at a time. A thumb tore into a fuel pump lining his throat, releasing a gush of oil. Ambulon winced, teeth grit, color fading from his only functioning optic. Still he stared into Zel's mindless gaze, hoping somehow he'd come to, he'd remember him. "Z-Zel... sss... st... op..."

Nothing. It took another second for Ambulon to realize it was hopeless.

Zel was too far gone. This miner, this mech about to kill him, this mech who had taken his best friend's life, was no longer Zel. Just a monster, a violent, angry monster.

Ambulon's spark skipped a beat. He swore he saw-- There it was again. A flash of color behind Zel. He rolled his single optic up. Another flash of color, and in horror, Ambulon watched as the thick, curved blade of a pickaxe cut through the side of Zel's head, tearing through it and yanking it clean off in a matter of seconds. It happened all too fast, and before Ambulon knew it, he was on the ground, lying in a pool of energon.

The medic heaved as he sat up a minute later, pressing his bleeding, half-crushed back to the wall. When he looked up, he found Zel lying and twitching at his feet. His head gone, energon and liquids gushing from sparking, torn circuits.

Ambulon heard the sound of voices rushing in from nearby before the ugly _thunk_ beside him. Slowly, he turned his head; he winced, staring into Zel's dead, red optics, the pickaxe hooked through his temple and out his mouth. Ambulon lifted his gaze, stared at Kickspeed weakly holding the axe's hilt, blank, dark optics staring at the lifeless, decapitated body. His face, covered in blood, was void of any emotion.

Ambulon swallowed. "K... Kickspee..." he wheezed, vocalizer glitching.

Kickspeed dropped the axe then, let it and Zel's head fall to the ground. He walked with a small sway over to where Zel had been sitting. Sat down, pulled his legs to his chest, and buried his face in his knees.

Ambulon watched him until the area was flooded with concerned officers, and his vision turned black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of unfortunate events.

**DAY 0: Early Morning**

Truncheon had a smile as thick oil, and a gaze as equally dark. "This couldn't wait?" he asked, lounging back on his signature rock. The more Pinnacle looked at it, the more it appeared as a throne. He frowned. "You know I prefer my dealings be kept outside"--he flitted a hand around the mostly bare caverns, save six other miners--"the hive."

"Before I say anything," Pinnacle replied, glancing around, "I need to speak with you in private." He needn't say anything more; his three men retreated from the area in a single file line.

Truncheon watched them go. Pinnacle could sense hesitation from his comrade, but it was fleeting. He looked to his men, nodded once. A minute later, the two were alone.

"I must say," Truncheon hummed, "you seem a little agitated, brother."

 _Brother_. Pinnacle narrowed his optics. "You know why I'm here," he said, firmly.

Truncheon blinked then laughed. "You take me for granted, Pinnacle."

"So you haven't told anyone?"

"Of course not," Truncheon said. "Not until we have a plan."

Pinnacle's frown twitched. "I'm inclined to agree with you, but not your methods," he stated.

"You and I have a different way of going about things," Truncheon agreed. "But it doesn't mean we can't work together."

Pinnacle forced down his bitter laughter. Work together - as if Truncheon would ever swallow his pride. "This is a delicate matter," he insisted. "One slip, and we're looking at a riot."

"We can handle our people," Truncheon said, calm.

"The last thing we need right now is a fight with the police."

Truncheon squinted. He tilted his head, expression mildly curious. "I've been wondering something," he said, and Pinnacle knew he was deliberately ignoring what he last said. "How is it the police were able to discover the Saxum mines?"

"There could be a number of reasons," Pinnacle replied.

"Such as insider information?" Truncheon's thick brows climbed. His partner stayed quiet. "I'd like to think there's not one disloyal brother among us, but... Well, people are hardly what they seem. Their words, as their minds, can change so easily."

"So you think it was one of us?" Pinnacle asked.

Truncheon's optics went lidded, dimmed. He looked upon his brother with a judgmental, soft glower. "That," he said, "or someone made one little slip."

Pinnacle clutched a fist at his side, though he appeared calm. "A number of possibilities," he insisted. "But it doesn't mean we need to go on a witch hunt."

Truncheon bobbed his head in a nod. "Right, right," he agreed, though sounded only half-sincere. "But I'm afraid our brothers will only consider _that_ possibility, once we share the news." He sneered. "It's good we can control the family. We don't need them turning on each other from paranoia and suspicion after breaking the news on the Saxum mines' invasion." He chortled, something deep and almost menacing. "Why, I'd hate for it to be true - that one of _us_ would be guilty of the betrayal. Not only would it wound the family, but there's no telling _what_ the others would do to the unlucky sod..."

Pinnacle remained quiet, waited until Truncheon finished. "We must be delicate in telling them."

"Indeed!"

"We must keep them calm. Because we cannot start another riot."

"You are such a peaceful mech, my brother," Truncheon replied. He sat forward. "But how far can your gentle, pacifist words go before they can no longer contain the power within us?"

Pinnacle frowned. "You speak to me as if I am afraid. As if I want our family to remain on our hands and knees the rest of our lives." Truncheon said nothing. "I want a revolution just as much as you do, _brother_." And the word was so bitter, despite his attempt to keep it neutral. "But, as you have said, we go about our ways differently. Sickle and Scythe thought very much like you."

Truncheon chuckled. "Why," he said, "that almost sounds like a threat."

"Not a threat," Pinnacle retorted, shaking his head. He looked his brother square in the optics. "But a warning."

Truncheon sneered. "I fear no one," he said a moment later. He slapped a hand on his knee, sighed. "Well, suppose we ought to get to work. This orn will prove to be a long one."

"I didn't come here just to address the Saxum problem."

Truncheon cocked a brow. "Oh?"

"You know of the attempt on my life in Tarn not long ago."

Truncheon nodded.

Pinnacle studied the larger miner. "I have thought about it for a while now. As to who and why anyone would want to take my life. As it was not a simple mugging, nor do I believe it was some run-on-the-mill hate crime." He stood straight. "There were ulterior motives."

Truncheon hummed. "So, _now_ you think we've a traitor in our ranks?"

"Yes." Pinnacle's firm response caused a very minute, almost invisible twitch in Truncheon's EM field. As if he were genuinely surprised. "And I aim to find out who," he said. "Because to harm a fellow brother, let alone try to kill him, would be the absolute form of treachery in our family. And as Sickle and Scythe once said, 'worthy of the punishment of death, and death alone'."

Truncheon studied his brother. "I agree," he said, finally. "But do be careful. Otherwise it _will_ turn into a witch hunt." He slipped from his throne rock, smiled that oily sneer. "Are we finished, brother? I'm afraid if we're spotted talking like this, the insectoids will get ideas."

"That is all," Pinnacle replied. "We'll speak again and decide what to do next."

"Very good."

The group of followers returned, and Pinnacle watched Truncheon disappear with his flock. They cast him wary looks, and Pinnacle knew the crack in their family was starting to grow.

\---

**DAY 0: Afternoon**

"I should take off."

Extorque looked up, watched as Ambulon left the medbay for his field run. Fissure chuckled and turned in his seat, looking to his coworker. "He's been so stressed lately, don't you think?" he asked, but he was more amused than concerned.

Extorque lowered his gaze to the datapad in his hand. "Yeah," he mumbled.

Fissure sighed and shook his head, drew to his feet. "I've got a patient coming in for another system flush. Damn dirty fool." He headed for one of the rooms. "Let me know when he arrives. Got to prep."

"Will do."

Once Fissure was gone, Extorque leaned forward, scrubbing his face in his hands. Shit. It had been a very tedious past few days, what with Ambulon trying to stir the waters. He had warned the medic it was a waste of time, and also extremely dangerous. In the end, Ambulon still had a head on his shoulders. But the raid on the Saxum mines... The police had gotten the message, and were investigating.

However, why weren't they investigating _here_?

If Ambulon told them of his suspicions of Fissure, shouldn't someone have come by now? Maybe ask a few questions? Anything? Perhaps they were undercover? No, that couldn't be it. A new arrival would instantly be noticed. The only explanation Extorque could think of... They were looking into Fissure, yes, but through his files and background. To make sure there was some reason, _any_ reason, as to why he'd be dealing with criminals. An eye witness report wasn't enough basis to warrant any type of search, Extorque supposed, but he was no cop.

Extorque jumped in his seat when a large miner suddenly appeared, glaring at him with one crooked optic. "He's waiting for you," the medic replied, pointing to the room. The miner said nothing and headed inside, welcomed with a warm greeting from the CMO.

Extorque sighed again. He needed to stop worrying. At least for now. It was dangerous, especially if Fissure suspected him. He wasn't sure if the doctor knew he was in the middle of this entire mess, but he tried to appear as innocent as a one day old protoform.

He winced at the loud whirl of the flush-machine as it switched on.

_Doc! Doc! Anyone!_

Extorque hadn't heard the distress call to the open emergency line, not at first. He blinked, wondering if he had--

_Someone! Pick up!_

Extorque quickly opened the comm. "This is Extorque, please state the nature of the emergency," he said, keeping calm.

_He's dead! H--He's dying! P-Primus, e-energon, it's-- F-Frag!_

Extorque leaned forward, tensing. "I need you to calm down. Who is injured?"

_Get over here get over here!_

Extorque quickly tracked the origin of the call. Clear in Sector 6. "I need you to tell me who is injured and what--"

_I--I can't I-- I dunno, s-something happened, I-- I didn't see--see but-- Oh, doc, he's dyin', he's dyin'!_

Extorque scowled. "Stay on the line," he ordered, and quickly comm'd Ambulon.

Nothing.

He tried again, and again - each time, no response. By the fourth ping, he received... static? Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Extorque looked back to the patient room where Fissure was hard at work. Hissing, he quickly opened the line again to hysterical screaming.

_Don't die don't die don't die!_

"Listen, I need you to stay calm, all right? For now, try to stop his bleeding," Extorque insisted, keeping his voice level, despite his uneasiness. "I'm on my way. I'm switching you over to my private commlink. Stay on the line with me, understood?"

_Y-Yes but you need to hurry I don't-- Oh, man, I can see the whites-- whites of his-- oh Primus!_

Extorque grabbed an emergency medkit and was out the door.

\---

It would normally take about fifteen or so minutes to arrive in Sector 6, but racing like a bat out of Hell, Extorque arrived on the scene eight minutes later.

He transformed, and once his optics fell on the victim, his spark jolted in its chamber.

Two miners were kneeling beside RiffRaff. The mech was stretched out on the ground, impaled by a number of stalactites and debris, blood bubbling from the edges. A thick puddle of his fluids ran like water across the dark rocks beneath him. His comrades pressed their hands on the edges of the deeper wounds, trying to stop the flow.

"What happened?" Extorque demanded, quickly taking the injured miner's side. The two scattered, standing.

"Dunno! I was gone just a klik! M-Maybe two, and-- and--"

"There was a loud noise! Like an explosion! I heard screamin' and came over, and he was kneelin' beside this guy, all bleedin'!"

"I found Riff like that! I dinnit do nothin'! I heard the explosion, too!"

Extorque quickly went to assessing the damage. RiffRaff stared at him with pale optics, jaw hanging open and tracking energon down his chin. "What happened?" he asked, placing temporary patches around the edges of the bleeding spikes.

RiffRaff's jaw quivered, and the only sound he could make was a breathy hiss. "He can't talk," the first miner said, wringing his hands. "But-- But we think-- we think it might have been another quake!"

"No, stupid! It was too small to be a quake! It was dynamite! Someone set off dynamite!"

"There's been no clearance for explosives today," Extorque insisted. But he didn't exactly believe the earthquake theory. Not without more evidence. He could see chunks of debris scattered around RiffRaff, and a noteable hole in the ceiling, but... It was very secluded. "Did he have any explosives on him?"

The miners shrugged. "We dunno! We just heard a loud BOOM and ran over to investigate and--!"

Extorque frowned. "Right," he said. "I can't move him. It's too dangerous. I'm going to need to call for back--"

The miners gasped as RiffRaff's hand suddenly flew up, took Extorque's wrist. The medic widened his optics, but kept calm.

"Yo... Your... friend..." Riffraff mumbled, very hoarsely.

Extorque blinked. "What?"

"He... F-Friend..."

"Save your voice, you need to--

"Clinc..."

Extorque's spark went dead a split second. He looked back to RiffRaff, nervous. "... Tightclinch?"

And the gangster-turned-miner suddenly smiled, very slowly, his dental plates stained with energon. "Him. FF... Fff..." His voice sounded so small. His EM field was weakening. Extorque meant to call for backup, but-- "Sick Scy..."

"What's he saying?" one miner asked, nervous.

"Trr," RiffRaff gasped, suddenly straining, "Trrr. K-Know v-voices! S... Stu--" His body convulsed, riding into an arch.

"RiffRaff! Keep still, and stop talking! I'm--"

"Thought - me... s-st--!" Riffraff choked before coughing up more energon. His tense, arched body then fell back to the ground in a loud thud, unmoving.

Extorque stared at the wounded miner. He quickly checked his sparkpulse.

"... He's dead, isn't he?"

Extorque said nothing.

The two miners grabbed at their heads, releasing small, terrible noises. "I knew it!" the second miner sobbed. "I knew he wasn't gonna make it!"

Extorque was still in shock by what he had been told. He didn't understand much, and was mostly confused, but... The fact RiffRaff brought up Tightclinch...

_Trisil to Extorque. Pick up Extorque._

Extorque hesitated a moment before opening his commlink. "Yes?"

_There's... been an accident._

"Accident?" Oh, good, another one.

_We'll debrief you when you get back. But Ambulon, Maceforce, and Kickspeed are currently being transported to the hospital. Two miners are dead._

\---

"Look, I know working in the mines is dangerous, and you risk your life pretty much everyday..."

"But?"

"I'm just... beginning to think that place has some serious bad luck."

"You're a doctor. You don't believe in such nonsense as curses."

"I didn't say it was a curse. But now that I think about it... Yeah. Those mines might as well be cursed."

\---

**DAY 4: Evening ******

********

The doctors had told him he was out for a day and a half. However, he was fortunate he hadn't suffered any serious, fatal damage.

Ambulon felt like he'd been through Hell anyway.

He spent most of his third day in the hospital in bed, staring at the ceiling. Unresponsive or short and curt in answering questions. Everyone believed it was the shock. After what he'd seen and gone through, it only made sense. The doctors said he would come out of it soon anyway.

It wasn't so much shock as...

Well. Ambulon couldn't really describe it. The sensation was a mix of emotions, but one that stood out the most was anger.

He was angry.

That was normal. Anyone would tell him that. He was angry he'd lost two friends and been hurt.

But the origin of his anger would have surprised the medibots.

Ambulon wasn't inclined to tell anyone this, however. He'd been asked questions, interrogated, but it was no use. He lied, pretending he'd forgotten most of what happened. He remembered - oh, he remembered _everything_. By day four, Ambulon was mobile again, after a news reporter from Tarn managed to slip inside and received a rather powerful punch to the face for invasion of privacy.

"You'll be released tomorrow."

Extorque hadn't expected a response. He'd been speaking with Ambulon for almost fifteen minutes now, and the medic hadn't spoken one word. It was his idea they go outside, stretch their limbs, so to speak. Though the doctors insisted Ambulon remain in a wheelchair most of the time. Not like Ambulon complained - not like he did much of anything. He wore a seemingly permanent expression of ennui, and it... bothered Extorque. Just a bit.

This was not the first time he'd seen patients in Ambulon's condition. He'd seen them much worse, in fact. But because Ambulon was a friend, and given certain circumstances--

"Armorshield wants you back to work soon," Extorque continued. He sat on the bench beside the wheelchair-bound Ambulon, staring at the distant skyline of Tarn. "I told him you should probably take it easy, so I'll be taking over your duties on the field. At least for a couple orns." He glanced to Ambulon. "That okay with you?"

No response, of course.

Extorque turned his gaze back to the far city. "We're excited for your return. Without you, we've been swamped. Haven't--"

"They haven't told me anything, you know."

Extorque twitched. He looked back to Ambulon, slightly surprised.

Ambulon frowned. He looked up. "Zel. Zing. Kickspeed. Maceforce," he said. "They haven't told me anything."

Extorque frowned. "I guess they didn't want to cause you stress..."

Ambulon looked to his comrade. "Tell me."

"Are you--"

" _Tell me_."

Extorque chewed his bottom lip. He sighed and clenched his hands over his knees. "Zel and Zing's remains have been placed in Miner's Dirge."

"Maceforce?"

"Alive. He came out of his catatonic state an orn before you, in fact. But he's..."

"He's _what_?"

"He'll need... surgery. Extensive surgery," Extorque mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "The damage to his CPU was... There's only a handful of doctors qualified to preform this specific operation, so he was sent to Vos shortly after he woke."

"What was the damage?"

"He's... He's unresponsive to most outside stimuli. A portion of his RAM databanks were... crushed and... could not be salvaged. This basically--"

"He's pretty much brain dead."

Extorque winced. "... Something like that."

"What happens to him if the surgery is successful?"

"He..." Extorque sighed. "He'll never fully recover. He'll probably need special care for the rest of his life. He won't be able to return to work. But, I suppose... I suppose it's good that he won't remember what happened. There's an eighty-two percent chance his amnesia is permanent."

Ambulon closed his optics. "... How is Kickspeed?"

Extorque wasn't sure how to answer that. He sat upright. "Kickspeed is... Nothing was wrong with him, medically. But... Emotionally..." He hesitated a second. "I haven't spoken to him. And the doctors haven't told me much. But I do know he's also been transferred. To Helex. There's a... facility there. He'll be placed in the care of a therapist while he's there."

"Pretty much an asylum then?"

"... It. In a way..."

"How stable is he, do you know? What are the chances of his recovery?"

"I don't know," Extorque said. "Like I said, I've been kept in the dark. They told me it was none of my business, anyway."

That, of course, had been a lie. In fact, he knew about everything that happened with Kickspeed since he arrived at the hospital. He'd been in the room with Sharpshift when medics were interrogating him, asking him to recount the details of the incident. For the most part, Kickspeed had kept quiet, hands on his knees, tired, dim gaze locked on the floor. Not too unlike Ambulon, really.

The police probed and probed. Extorque had insisted they give Kickspeed some space, but he'd spent a day in the hospital recuperating, and to them, that was plenty enough. They wanted to be done with this mess, clean it up as soon as possible, and get back to work.

Kickspeed was making that difficult, however. Four hours in a room with him, the same questions repeated over and over, re-phrased and in various tones, and he did not speak. Not even a peep. However, something--and Extorque didn't know what that was--got Kickspeed to finally open up. He'd just been asked for the tenth time what Zel was doing that morning before his breakdown.

"He said... You know," Kickspeed mumbled, and the cops leaned in. "First thing Zel said... to me. When I... came to. The mines. He said. 'Down here, you have to be careful...'" One corner of his mouth twitched. "'Down here, you have to be careful, or you'll lose your head.'"

The police looked to one another, confused. Then--and it was Extorque who heard it first--Kickspeed started making strange little noises. He curled forward, frame shaking, as if shrinking into a ball. But then, before the police could ask the medic what was wrong, Kickspeed sat back against the wall, threw his head back, a hand over his optics and mouth wide as he laughed. A loud, uproarious cackle, his laugh echoing off the walls in the small cold room.

The cops were not amused. Extorque watched Kickspeed laugh and laugh before he finally drew to his feet and excused himself.

This, however, Ambulon need not know. Not now, at least.

"What was the cause of Zel's breakdown?"

Extorque nearly sputtered, ripped from his painful daze. "Overdose on Stims," he explained. "A major side effect to Stims... It increases aggression. And the amount found in his system, it was..."

"Zing told me the same. He thought Zel was going through Stim withdrawals I believe, or something like it," Ambulon explained. He looked Extorque in the optics. "But both Zing and I knew Zel didn't use drugs. Never, not even once."

"It's... never shown up in his chart, no, but perhaps it had been the first--"

"There's no reason for him to take Stims," Ambulon insisted. "That, and... Apparently Zel had been taken to the medbay the night before in regards to an abnormality in his recent exam. He was given something to take care of it, and told not to tell anyone about this. He told Zing, however, and Zing told me. Said something about the drug being experimental, I don't know. But that-- Whatever he was given, _that_ was what caused the breakdown."

Extorque frowned. "I didn't see him."

"I didn't say you did."

He got it. "You think Fissure..."

"I _know_ it was Fissure," Ambulon growled. "I know he gave Zel something under false medical pretenses. And Zel was none the wiser. Took the drugs as ordered. Maybe it was something experimental, maybe it was Stims. But either way, Fissure _knew_ what it would do."

"Why would Fissure drug Zel?" Extorque asked.

Ambulon chortled, bitterly. "The answer is quite obvious."

Extorque widened his optics.

Ambulon hissed, "Fissure knew what he was doing. Knew when the drugs would take effect. Knew I'd be called to check things out. He was hoping to use Zel. He was hoping Zel would kill me. If Zel managed to survive the breakdown, I'm sure Fissure would have killed him to keep his secret safe. To keep his hands clean."

"So you believe Fissure... found out? About your message?"

Ambulon glowered at Extorque. "Maceforce was filling in for Stormwind that day. Rather convenient, don't you think? Maceforce had been poking into Fissure's business; he must have known. Sent him in to die alongside me. And even if Maceforce survived, Fissure has no need to be concerned, given the kid's condition."

Extorque massaged his temples. "This is... I don't know what to think, Ambulon."

"You still don't believe me?" Ambulon snorted. "Go check the med closet. Remember the pack of Stims Fissure had confiscated from RiffRaff? I bet you the plating on my back they're gone now."

Extorque winced at the mention of RiffRaff. No, not right now. "They've been in there a while. He might have gotten rid of them a long time ago."

"Then maybe he kept a vial! We don't know!"

"You're so certain he's behind this? It's true Stormwind was ill that day, and it's not uncommon for many miners to dabble in--"

"I know Zel." Ambulon paused. "I _knew_ Zel. He would never take drugs. He believed they only messed up your systems. And I told you, with Fissure having given him medicine--"

"Maybe the medicine had similar side effects to Stims?"

"If so, how does that change things?"

"Maybe Fissure honestly didn't know Zel would react so violently to the drug?" It was stupid, Extorque knew. Fissure would not give Zel such a potent drug without closely monitoring his condition, to make sure such reactions did not happen.

And the way Ambulon stared at him, the younger medic also knew he was being stupid. However, he did not call him out. Instead, Ambulon sat back in his wheelchair, turning his gaze to the city. Extorque sat there in awkward silence. He meant to ask if Ambulon wanted to head back inside, to lay down and just... get his mind off all this--

"I've been thinking over things. More than just recent events. But before I arrived, even."

Extorque raised his head.

"And... You may not remember, having been overcharged, but you told me about Tightclinch," he said, and he immediately noticed his friend stiffen, "and how he'd become... weird. That something changed in his behavior. Something was wrong, but he wouldn't tell you. And then he winds up heading into the mines, fully knowing about--"

"What are you getting at, Ambulon?" Extorque interjected, tone dark.

"I'm saying, I don't think it was an accident."

Extorque narrowed his optics.

"I'm saying, perhaps I wasn't the first one to discover Fissure's dark secrets," Ambulon continued. He looked to Extorque. "And maybe... he went underground on purpose."

Extorque stood. "You think Tightclinch would commit suicide?" he spat. "He wasn't like that!"

"Are you so sure? Like you said, he'd almost become a different person in the days leading to his demise..."

"That doesn't mean he was suicidal!"

Ambulon shrugged. "You may not want to hear it, but I think he figured something out. I don't know - maybe by accident? And what he had learned shocked him enough to drive him mad." He frowned.

"He wasn't _mad_ ," Extorque insisted. "Yes, okay, maybe he was depressed. He--"

"Didn't he tell you something about his brother?" Ambulon asked. "Didn't he tell you that you do terrible things for your loved ones?" Extorque said nothing, appalled. Ambulon continued, anyway, "You wanted me to listen to your story. When you were drunk, you kept insisting something was wrong. You, yourself, believed something had happened. Made him the way he was."

"I was drunk!" Extorque snapped.

"That may be," Ambulon said, "but deep inside, you still think it. You still think it wasn't an accident."

Extorque opened his mouth. Shut it, jaw clenching. He ground his teeth, stood and turned away. "I have to go," he said. "My shift is going to start soon."

"Right." A pause. "Be careful."

Extorque looked back to Ambulon.

"Fissure failed. I survived, so he failed," Ambulon said, quietly. "Be careful. Who knows what will happen next. To me, or to... to those I consider a friend."

Extorque was almost surprised-- He spotted an orderly passing by and waved him over. "I'll let him see you back inside," he mumbled. He left, nearly knocking shoulders with the approaching orderly, his spark beating hard in its chamber.

\---

**DAY 5: Evening**

Ambulon returned to the facility the next day. However, he wouldn't return to work for a couple more.

Extorque was fine with that. He knew he was being juvenile, but he was still upset. To talk about Tightclinch like that...

However, he noticed his work was... staggering. He was making mistakes (albeit small ones), getting distracted, and twice Fissure snapped at him to pay attention and stay focused. The second time Fissure snapped at him, however, Extorque snapped back. Couldn't remember what he said, but the CMO gave him a dirty look. Said nothing else, however.

Extorque found himself wanting to move Deceptor somewhere else. However, he couldn't think of any place safer than where the flower was now. Instead, during Fissure's energon break, he went inside the lab and changed the code on the lock. One he'd keep to himself, and only himself.

By the end of the day, Extorque felt as if he'd been through twenty nerve-wracking surgeries. He watched Fissure leave, appearing cheerful as usual. Yet he couldn't help but find himself... afraid.

Ambulon wasn't wrong. Not entirely. Extorque knew things; knew things Ambulon did not. Knew things Tightclinch hadn't. But it never occurred to him bad could ever get to worse. He thought he'd accept what he knew - what he'd seen - what he'd _done_ , but if there was more to it than all this...

Extorque was too afraid to even think about it. Not for long, anyway. He knew if he thought too much about it - dwelt too deeply - the darkness would return. He'd see Tightclinch's sad, devastating expression just moments before his death. It would be disapproving, too. Though it was nothing compared to Scrooseloose's painfully grateful, hopeful smile...

Extorque switched off his computer. He could afford to leave a few minutes early today.

\---

**DAY 6: Early Morning**

Pinnacle knew it was dangerous.

Truncheon firmly believed he'd been the one to expose the Saxum mines to the police. It was his fault. But he had no way of proving it. Though it was only a matter of time, Pinnacle supposed. If Truncheon found out he'd taken those medics underground, he'd use this to win over the favor of all the Purists.

Pinnacle, however, would not only be outcast from the family, but wouldn't survive more than a few days afterward.

It hadn't been easy, breaking the news to their brothers. Many wanted to revolt. Some were quiet. They listened to Pinnacle's reasoning better. Though Pinnacle could see who the majority of his brothers followed. Truncheon was rising in popularity, using the Saxum mines' incident to rise in the ranks. Little by little, the Purists were turning to Truncheon; soon, the rivalry would be over, and a new leader would be chosen. Truncheon said he wanted to rule side by side with Pinnacle, but Pinnacle knew once he had the crown, everything would fall apart.

Pinnacle knew it was dangerous, but it was a risk worth taking.

An hour after receiving the startling private transmission, Pinnacle snuck out of his suite and headed outside the facility walls. Away from prying eyes and ears; away from invasive cameras. It hadn't been too hard, sneaking out; while it wasn't exactly against the rules for the miners to go where they pleased, they'd still be stopped and questioned by the security officers. And Pinnacle needed to make sure there were no witnesses.

His contact had been waiting for him when he arrived.

"You said it was urgent," Pinnacle stated, "and by Solus, you had better be right. My aft is on the line here."

The mech stepped out from the shadows, painted in the traditional law enforcement colors. "Oh, trust me," the officer replied, removing a datapad. He placed it in the miner's hands. "This information will change everything. It's a whole new game from here on in."

Pinnacle glanced at the datapad.

"Riff's boy spilled," the officer said, smiling, "and you're not going to _believe_ what he said."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dirty truth claws at the coffin's lid. Exposition helps it out.

Ambulon looked upon the entrance gates of Outpost C-00.

He had never quite noticed just how high the walls were, and how many security officers were patrolling the area. When the massive doors opened with a loud buzz, and Ambulon could see the miners shuffling to work underground within, he couldn't help but feel he was walking right into prison.

He'd only been working at the facility for a couple months, and yet he'd seen and done enough to last him a lifetime. Conspiracies running rampant, black market dealers, people dying only to issue a warning to him. Ambulon tried not to blame himself for Zing and Zel's death, yet he felt partially responsible anyway. Kickspeed was spending perhaps the rest of his life in a rehabilitation asylum, and Maceforce would spend his constantly being taken care, incapable of doing most anything on his own.

Extorque would tell him he stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and kept sniffing out the trail. He'd tell him this might never have happened had he only bowed his head and kept quiet. Though not in those words, Ambulon imagined; he'd sprinkle sugar on it, try to sound reassuring and comforting while still cleaving an ax of guilt into his back. Extorque wouldn't mean to upset Ambulon, no, but rather pity him.

Which was worse, Ambulon didn't know.

An officer saw him to his room, and Ambulon was left to spend the day by himself. Work tomorrow; for now, relax and recuperate. At least it wasn't three or four days like before; he was going out of his mind then. Yet once Ambulon was sure he was alone, he went through his room, meticulously combing every nook and cranny for any camera or piece of spying equipment.

An hour had passed before he finished his search.

Nothing.

Ambulon wondered if Fissure didn't need to spy on Ambulon to know he was up to something. Or perhaps they removed the device while Ambulon was in the hospital. Either way, he had to be extra careful now; couldn't even feel safe in his own damn room. He slowly turned to his computer; he checked the machine for any bug, but found nothing. That didn't mean it was necessarily safe to use. And Ambulon wasn't sure if he wanted to risk it if not.

Taking risks, after all, had so far gotten him into a lot of trouble.

Ambulon's shoulders went slack, actuators and hydraulics relaxing. Not relaxed, no; fatigued, resigned. He was tired, so very tired. He wondered if he could blame his age; though his maturity had always been that of an adult since he first came online, that didn't mean he was old. That didn't mean he was wise. This world was still very new to him, and Ambulon hadn't even scratched the surface. Of the shadows he crossed, a greater darkness awaited and stretched through Cybertron, inconceivable to his young mind. The idea that this corruption was perhaps on a bigger scale, that Fissure was perhaps nowhere near the worst of people that populated the dark side of this planet, sent chills through his frame.

Ambulon grumbled to himself, rubbing hard circles into his temples. He was getting a headache. Stop thinking; for the day, just stop thinking. Lives may be on the line, they may not. You lost too many already. At least for a day, go back to your ignorance and obliviousness and pretend nothing lied outside your bedroom door, no evil, no good, just nothing.

Checking and double checking the lock on his door, Ambulon crawled onto his berth and too easily fell asleep.

\---

The entire facility was buzzing with excitement for tonight. High grade shipments and supplies would be arriving. BETTER THEN NOTHIN would be lively with alcohol and entertainment again. It was always refreshing just to kick back and not care for a while.

The recent deaths in the mines had not stirred the waters. The miners kept to their business, and mourned on their own time. It was no surprise, either, people overdosing on Stims or from work related accidents. That was the norm here, thought admittedly more the latter than the former. But no one was shocked or rattled, not really, and while some were sad to lose Zel and Zing, hardly anyone felt bad for RiffRaff's untimely demise. Most figured his arrogance and penchant for causing trouble would get him killed, but a quake had taken care of the bastard instead. Some - most of which were Solus Purists - were thankful, even.

Though the remnants of RiffRaff's gang underground were not convinced RiffRaff's death was an accident. The group went to speak with Truncheon or Pinnacle, but before a quarrel could break out, officers stepped in and intervened. Two days later, Solus Purists loyal to Truncheon sought out RiffRaff's gang to punish them for their attempt to fight their brothers. They had superiority here; the mines were their territory. They'd never welcomed outsiders, especially criminals, and the idea they thought they could just stroll on in and get in their leaders' faces...

The fight had just barely started before the officers stepped in and separated the parties. One Purist wound up on house arrest for the rest of the day, another taken to the medic to repair his busted optic.

Extorque sighed.

He'd been reading this datapad for almost a half hour now, yet nothing had registered. He couldn't focus properly. Ambulon had returned early that morning, and Extorque had wanted to welcome him back during his energon break, but... The younger medic probably didn't want to see him. All they seemed to do was argue now. Morals and ethics, and it wasn't as if Extorque didn't have any of those. It just...

The medic's eyes wandered to Fissure in the medicine supply closet. His back was to Extorque as he fussed with a few bottles and vials. Morbid curiosity pushed Extorque back in his chair, so he could see the entire inside of the closet. He looked for the pack of Stims they had confiscated a while ago, but... Not there. And he didn't see anything that looked remotely like the drugs. Then again, they could easily be hidden in one of the other, many bottles or vials.

"Something wrong?"

Extorque startled in his chair, looked up. Fissure was standing beside him, a vial in his hand. "I think... we're out of somnos," Extorque said, finally, glancing back to the closet, the door now shut.

Fissure grinned, warm and friendly. "I think we have enough to last us the rest of the deca-cycle," he replied. "But I'll call in another order tomorrow, just in case."

Extorque forced on a smile. "Right. Thanks."

"No problem," Fissure chuckled. He sat down, putting the corked vial on his desk. As he opened a file on a patient, he said, conversely, "Ambulon's coming back to work tomorrow, right?"

One corner of Extorque's frown twitched. "Yeah," he said, pushing himself back to his desk.

"The poor kid," Fissure sighed, and sounded genuinely upset for his colleague. "He's been through so much already, and he's not even a cycle old." He shook his head, tsking. Extorque felt a flare of heat in his spark. "Well, I suppose that's what you get when you work in such a dangerous environment."

"Yeah."

Fissure shrugged. "But it'll be good to have him back," he said. He turned to Extorque, flashing that crooked smile. "Must get tiring taking on double shifts. Working the field while doing your daily routine in the medbay. Wears you down quickly, I imagine."

Extorque shook his head. He checked his chronometer and stood. "Speaking of which..." he said, collecting a medkit. He headed for the door, and left all too eagerly.

\---

_"The police will want some questions answered. Since you two were at the scene of death, they'll interrogate you."_

_"What's there to ask? We told ya what happened."_

_"Tell them you suspected dynamite had been the cause of the quake. Dynamite was not cleared for use that day. This could suggest foul play."_

_"... Well, okay, maybe it wasn't dynamite. Jus'... a boom. But that was probably jus' the quake an' rocks an' stuff."_

_"... I don't understand. Didn't you tell me there was no way it could be a natural quake or tremor? You seemed insistent dynamite was involved."_

_"Mm, well, I was in shock at the time, y'know? I don't think it was dynamite, though."_

_"Are you sure? Are you both positively sure it was a quake? Even if neither of you had actually been there when the actual ceiling came down."_

_There'd been a treacherous moment of silence and hesitation._

_"We're sure. Jus' another typical tremor."_

_"Yeah. Jus' forget about that entire dynamite thing. Jus' us hearin' things. It happens down here, y'know? But you jus' gotta take it in stride, otherwise ya go crazy."_

_"Right. I see."_

_"And, doc... Don't take this the wrong way or anythin', but... Whatever Riff said before he died, even if it was probably jus' gibberish... You should forget about that, too."_

_"Why?"_

_"What he said. You'll go crazy. One of you guys went crazy already. Ain't no good losin' another medic."_

\---

Ambulon had slept through the entire day. When he woke the miners were just getting off from work. He sat up, scrubbing his face in both hands. His tank lurched, HUD blinking; low on energon. And while Ambulon was in no mood to go out and possibly socialize, he had to eat. Grumbling, he stood, stretching arms and legs.

Ambulon headed for the door, reached for the control panel-- there came a ping from the other side. He looked up, frosted window darkened by a large shadow.

"Who is it?" Ambulon asked. His voice was level, but his spark was strangely tense.

"Sch'ush."

Ambulon recognized that wet, rusty voice from anywhere. He unlocked and opened the door. Tune Out and Boulderdash stood side by side before him. They each held stacks of cubes, both plain energon and high grade. "Figured you'd like some company," Tune Out said. He picked a cube off the tower in Boulderdash's hands, placed it in Ambulon's. " _And_ a drink."

Ambulon blinked. He looked from cube to the two standing at his door. "... If this is stuff from the bar, my system can't handle it," he said, stepping aside. Tune Out and Boulderdash walked in, taking their usual spots on the floor.

"Nah," Tune Out reassured. "Lighter stuff."

"Pansssche ssschtuffff."

Tune Out snorted at Boulderdash. "It tastes like unfiltered dirt anyway."

Boulderdash chortled, wiping drool from his disjointed jaw.

Ambulon shut the door. While he wasn't exactly up for entertaining guests, he was happy he didn't have to go out and mingle either. Ambulon took a test sip of the energon; it did taste rather weak, even by his standards, but at least it hadn't threatened to destroy his tank like the stuff the miners drank.

"S'casual game tonight," Tune Out explained, dealing out the cards. "No money, no gamblin'."

Boulderdash turned skeptical orange optics on the security officer. "No ssshheatin'."

Instead of snapping back in defense, Tune Out grinned wryly and replied, "No cheating, either."

Ambulon shrugged. Not that he had money to spend. He sat on the ground, taking his stack of cards. The three looked their cards over, occasionally glancing at one another, searching for any crack in their poker faces. Boulderdash, however, was always hard to read.

Tune Out puffed out his chest. "Well," he said, holding up his cards, "I dunno about you guys, but I'm feelin' lucky." He then slapped them down.

\---

The bartender slapped the mug of high grade down on the bar.

Extorque startled, having been staring at the ceiling for the last couple minutes. He thanked the bartender and took a sip; sat it down then went back to studying the bar's ceiling.

"May I sit here?"

Extorque felt the warm, relaxing tendrils before he heard the equally tender, humble voice. He looked up, Effleurage standing beside him. "Pleasure," he mumbled and gestured to the empty stool.

Effleurage took the seat, his sedating field relaxing some of the tension in the medic's frame. The bartender came to take his order, but Effleurage smiled and flitted a dismissive hand, sending him off. He turned in his stool, hands folded together; Effleurage looked sad, almost, his usually bright yellow optics dimmed. Still the strength of that field remained, stroking Extorque almost like a reassuring pat on the back.

"I am sorry to hear what happened to Zel and his friends," Effleurage said. He bowed his head, optics closing. "Such a tragedy. They were good, wonderful people. I hope they find peace with Primus now."

Extorque sighed. "Yeah. So do I." He took another hard swallow of his drink. The irritation didn't last much longer when in Effleurage's presence, however.

"How is Ambulon?" the masseuse asked, his voice softening.

Extorque shook his head. "I, to be honest-- I don't know. It's all been rather hectic for him. I mean, he's dealing with it, but..." He rubbed his face. "Lots of things have happened lately. Lots of... crazy things."

"I won't ask you to share if they are private matters," Effleurage reassured. "But if there is anything I can do to help, let me know. I may not be able to sooth the emotional scars, but at least I can help relieve other physical pains."

Extorque bobbed his head. "You know," he said, and chuckled, almost embarrassed, "I might take you up on your offer. It's been a while since I last got one of your famous full body massages."

The masseuse grinned. "I've improved my technique somewhat since then," he chuckled lightly. "Though I'm afraid my assistants may be getting ahead of me. Soon, I fear, the master will become the pupil."

The two laughed.

Extorque took a drink. "You've taught them well."

"I like to--"

Extorque cursed as someone suddenly crashed into him. Effleurage quickly reached out, keeping him from falling out of his chair. Extorque went to speak, but there was a pinch in his wrist, then a couple fingers had been forced closed-- He looked up, optics flashing. "The Pit was that...!"

Extorque trailed off, anger turning to surprise. The mech who deliberately walked into him glanced over his shoulder at the medic, just once. Extorque recognized his face - the scar. Ambulon had treated the miner not too long ago. He was one of Pinnacle's men, and the way he glared with an indescribable heat at the medic before disappearing in the rowdy crowd--

"Are you alright?" Effleurage asked, his voice and field drawing Extorque from his daze.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Extorque sat upright.

Effleurage stroked a finger beneath his chin, looked back. "Wonder what that was about..."

Extorque went to say something, but-- He'd almost forgotten until the sudden pressure in his fist drew back his attention. He looked at his hand, spread his fingers; in his palm was a small dataslug. He blinked, spark skipping once.

"What is it?"

Extorque curled his fingers back over the dataslug. He stood from his stool and smiled apologetically at the curious masseuse. "Sorry, I'll have to take a rain check on that massage," he said. "Urgent business just came up."

\---

"Ssschhhoooo luckhhhee, huh?"

Tune Out cursed. He tossed down his losing hand. Boulderdash chortled, and if they had been dealing money, he'd have a large stack by now. Whereas Tune Out would only have a few credits. Ambulon would even have more than him.

"I don't know what's wrong!" Tune Out whined loudly. "Fraggin' sakes, I'm usually great at this game! Even Ambulon's luck is better than mine right now!" He picked up his cards, looking them over carefully. "Maybe somethin's wrong with the deck..."

Boulderdash guffawed; Tune Out and Ambulon instinctively moved aside to avoid the flying spittle. "Ssschore losscherr!"

"No, seriously! I'm tired of this damn dry spell!"

"I doubt it's anything new," Ambulon said.

Tune Out glared at the medic. "You sayin' I've always been scrap at cards?"

"More or less."

Boulderdash cackled, and this time spit did hit Tune Out.

"Why don't we just play something else?" Ambulon suggested. "A new game. One that doesn't involve cards."

"Or ssschtart sccheatin again! Good at that!"

Tune Out threw his hands in the air with an aggravated noise. It took Ambulon a moment before he remembered, seeing that tiny orb on the officer's finger... "That's right," he said, "you still have that camera installed."

Tune Out lowered his hands, glanced at his finger. "Yeah," he said. "Why?"

"Why don't you remove it?" Ambulon asked, and he hadn't quite noticed the chill building along his backstrut.

"It's no problem, I told you. It's not like it hinders me or anything," the officer explained. "And like I said, maybe one day it'll come in"--he paused, grinning widely, "--handy!" He broke out into laughter as Boulderdash just scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ambulon, however, was not laughing. He stared at Tune Out's hand; he remembered when the camera was recording, that little orb lit up. Almost impossible to see to those who were out of the loop. And he thought of the time they caught him recording the game, the eye red, and--

"Uninstall it."

Tune Out blinked, confused. "... Why?" he asked, immediately noticing the edge in Ambulon's field.

"It's useless. You won't use it, and you don't need it," the medic insisted, firmly. "Besides, you could easily record something on accident; not realize you turned the device on."

"Well, that's never--"

"The device records everything on a small data chip, right? You can watch the vid on your computer," Ambulon interjected. "And... Is your line safe? Is your computer impenetrable from outside forces?"

Tune Out glanced to Boulderdash, back to the medic. "I don't get what--"

"Who has access to your room? Has anyone been in your room lately? Have you left any of those," he nodded at the officer's hand, "chips out? Have you noticed if any of them have gone missing?"

Tune Out frowned. "Wait a klik, wait a klik!" He raised his hands. "You're not tellin' me something, doc. Sounds like you think someone's been stealing my recordings, or hacking into them on my computer. Why would anyone do that? I haven't recorded anything since you guys caught me and chewed my aft up about it."

"Like I said," Ambulon scowled, "you could have recorded something on accident. An incident, an overheard conversation--"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" the officer snarled and sat back. "I don't know what you're getting at here, Ambulon, but I don't like it. Just _what_ are you accusing me of?"

How could Ambulon explain? He'd only shared the incident with Fissure with Maceforce and Extorque. And the one person who took him seriously and helped with research on the old doctor was now brain dead in a hospital far away. Maceforce was also a security officer, a friend of Tune Out's; they were relatively close, spent time together, might have shared secrets they trusted each other to keep--

"Ambulon, seriously. I'm gettin' kind of mad here."

Ambulon sighed. He pressed his fingers into his temples. "Nothing. Nevermind."

"No, not 'nevermind'," Tune Out hissed. Boulderdash stayed quiet, looking concerned but not sure what to say. "You're accusing me of something, and I've got the right to know what and why!"

"It's nothing. Just... me over-thinking things."

"Okay, whatever, if it's nothing, then you can tell me."

"It's nothing, I said."

"And, again, if it's nothing--"

" _It's none of your business_!"

Tune Out and Boulderdash's optics widened. Ambulon heaved, yellow optics blazing with rage. He growled and sat back. "Just... forget it, okay? Forget I said anything!"

Tune Out's surprise from being yelled at turned into anger. "Pit no," he spit. "You don't get to say that sort of slag and then not--"

"Leh go," Boulderdash grumbled, placing a hand on the officer's shoulder.

Tune Out glared wildly at his friend. "What?"

"Leh go," the miner repeated, quietly, "he'ssch schressched."

"You're taking _his_ side?" Tune Out snarled. He was suddenly on his feet, EM field constricting with rage.

Boulderdash blinked. "Sch'not--"

"Look, I'm sorry for what happened to you, and what happened to your friends," Tune Out said, looking down at Ambulon, "but hey, guess what? Maceforce was my friend, too, you know. You think I'm all hunky-dory knowing my best friend's a fraggin' syntho-vegetable!? We came here hopin' to cheer you up, and you go and--and plant some sorta knife in my back?"

Ambulon frowned, suddenly filled with guilt. "Tune Out, I'm sorry," he said, sincerely, "I was out of line."

"Yeah, you were," Tune Out spat. He raised his hands with a disgusted sigh. "Whatever. I'm gonna go fer a walk." He kicked aside his pile of cards. "Ya'll have fun without me."

"Wait, Tune--"

Ambulon got to his feet just as Tune Out left, door sliding shut with a slam.

"Leh hhhem be."

The medic looked back at the miner sitting quietly on the floor. He was still concerned, and yet a little angry. "I didn't mean to upset him," Ambulon explained, running a hand over the top of his helm. "I wasn't--I wasn't thinking straight. It's just... there's more to all this than... I can't tell you or Tune Out, okay?" He fisted hands at his sides. "I just... it's too risky."

Boulderdash quietly gathered the cards, placing them in an arm compartment. He stood with a grunt, joints creaking. Shuffled for the door, stopped and looked up at Ambulon.

"They're ssschayin' ya gone craysschee."

Ambulon knit optic ridges. "Crazy? I'm not crazy."

Boulderdash just continued staring, a pitiful gleam in his glazed optics.

Ambulon grit his teeth. "I am _not_ crazy!"

Boulderdash sighed, shoulders creaking as they fell slack. He said nothing more and walked around Ambulon, letting himself out. The door shut with a click, and loud footfalls slowly faded into silence.

Ambulon stood there for a while, fists still at his side, staring at the ground. Air cycled loudly through his growling engine, and for a moment, he felt like kicking down the door.

Ambulon dimmed his optics. He pressed his face in his hands, and wondered if the rumors were true.

\---

I am taking great risks by sending you this message. It may destroy my reputation, and I may be disowned from the family I love. I may never be forgiven and I may even be killed if my words do not get through to them.

Yet if there is any sanity, any true loyalty in my family, they will realize Truncheon has betrayed us all. And what I am saying is the truth. I do not spread false information or gossip; my people know this well. They may think otherwise, that I am merely trying to smear out the competition. But what I'm about to say is nothing but the truth, and must be heard.

We have all been kept in the dark. Secrets have been withheld, and we've been fed lies.

The thugs who attacked me in Tarn were part of an assassination attempt, set up by both Truncheon and RiffRaff. Contrary to what we all believed, this is not the first time these two have collaborated together.

Truncheon hired RiffRaff to contact his men out on the streets. They were to kill me, but to make it appear as a simple mugging. No suspicion would fall on Truncheon, and RiffRaff was confident his subjects would not betray him. And he had, for the most part, been right - up until last night, when one of his lackeys had been apprehended by the police and was informed of RiffRaff's death.

I do not know if it was fear and an attempt to shift the blame, or loyalty to his old leader and friend that drove him to confess. He explained everything - RiffRaff had told him that Truncheon had hired RiffRaff to hire them. That Truncheon wanted me dead. He also said this was not the first time they orchestrated an assassination - the first time, however, had been a success.

It was Truncheon who hired RiffRaff to sic his dogs on Sickle and Scythe. During break in the city, Truncheon had lured our former leaders some place secluded under false pretenses. Because he was not only their brother, but one of their future heirs, they quickly went to his rescue, only to find they'd been set up. RiffRaff's men killed Sickle and Scythe then disposed of their bodies, erasing any evidence that could lead the police to Truncheon as well as RiffRaff and his gang.

RiffRaff's death, and the circumstances around it - I refuse to believe it was merely an accident. Those who called you for help, the miners who found RiffRaff - they are loyal to Truncheon. I am sure they lied about their stories to the police - maybe to you when you last saw them for a check-up that morning.

But not long before RiffRaff's 'accident', I confronted Truncheon. I knew he knew I was suspicious of him. I think he knew I might have figured out his entire scheme. So in order to protect his secrets, he killed RiffRaff. He had a perfect window of opportunity - security was busy trying to help Ambulon and the miner who went mad. No one was looking, and, honestly, no one would care. So while security was handling Ambulon's problem, he quickly took out RiffRaff, making it appear that a quake and fallen debris had been the cause of his death. He hadn't realized two of his men were nearby and were not aware of his plans - he must have told them later and ordered them to keep quiet, or lie about anything they may have said to you.

I cannot confirm if he used dynamite or not. I only know Truncheon murdered RiffRaff. I believe this with every inch of my spark. Truncheon is a traitor: he killed our former leaders, and he tried to do away with me. He killed RiffRaff. I wouldn't be surprised if he's killed more people in the past.

I plan on confronting him tonight. While the others are away and security is busy watching the bar, I will speak with Truncheon and my people. I have ordered them to an emergency meeting. I will share all this information I have told you to my people, and to Truncheon. I will put him on the spot. I will force him to confess. I will make my brothers see he is disloyal and a murderer.

This may all turn on me, in some way or another. I may be killed. I may kill. Those who would attack me, or even Truncheon himself. I don't care. I will not stand for this injustice, and if I die, I will take Truncheon with me. My people need a true leader, and to let Truncheon take control would destroy our family. They must know the truth.

And so must you.

There is another reason I am sending this confession. You see, I've neglected to mention there was a third member, a third party, involved in Truncheon's death. RiffRaff hired the thugs, Truncheon led Sickle and Scythe to their trap, but it was someone else who paid RiffRaff for his assistance. Someone else but not Truncheon.

RiffRaff had shared this information with the thug who was arrested. It was your friend, Tightclinch. He had gone to RiffRaff and paid him to help kill off Sickle and Scythe. He did not attempt to hide his identity, either.

I do not know why your friend played a role in all this. I do not know what he hoped to gain. Perhaps there was nothing to gain. Perhaps he had no choice. Was he threatened? What did he have to lose if he did not comply? His job? Either way, there's no evidence, and all blame falls on your old friend. With him dead, the trail has gone cold. But this is assuming your friend had been forced. Your people are known for your cruelty and your hatred of the Purists.

But he was your friend, and you are the only person who is most likely to figure out the truth.

Do you know? Or do you not _want_ to know?

I have said much, and yet there are still things I have not shared. Some too vague for me to confirm. But, I pass this onto you, and I pass this onto Ambulon. I may die tonight, but like myself, you both should know the answers. Because there is a greater force at work here, a corruption that spreads out from the depths of these mines into the world above. Your words carry more weight than my people, than all the miners combined. If anyone can fight this battle, it would be you two.

Ambulon was right. You'd do best to be careful. Trust no one around you. Tightclinch might serve as the perfect example. Though for your sake, I hope the medic was no such monster.

Do not attempt to find me. Do not attempt to stop me. I've told you too much, but now I must insist you stay out of this. You and Ambulon. This is a matter between my family and I. Or, at least, whatever family I will have left. And if you do try to stop me, I will have no qualms killing you, as I must end this tonight, and no obstacle will stand in my way.

You may destroy this dataslug. I cannot trust you enough to keep it and spread this message. It is your choice. But I am doing the right thing, and if I die, at least I'll know I fought to the end.

End transmission.

\---

Ambulon felt sick, and couldn't sleep.

He had tried. Shortly after Tune Out and Boulderdash left, Ambulon finished his energon and returned to bed. He tossed and turned, but his CPU was overworking, running fast. He debated switching on auto-pilot, or a force shut down. But... Perhaps he didn't _want_ to sleep. As he laid there, flat on his back, staring unblinking at the ceiling.

_Are you going crazy?_

Ambulon grumbled and sat up. He suddenly felt uncomfortable in his own chassis. His plating and armor, every inch of his frame, felt tight and constricting and itchy. He rubbed at tense shoulders and neck, but couldn't seem to relax. Hissing, he stood, immediately deciding to head to the wash racks. Maybe a good shower would calm his nerves, pull his drifting soul back in his sore, awkward-feeling body.

Ambulon headed out a minute later. The place was quiet - he would have heard the miners returning to their rooms. They were still out partying, then. Well, fine, that meant the wash racks were probably empty. At least he hoped.

The noise from the bar was jubilant and loud. It sounded as if everyone was having the time of their lives. Ambulon almost wished he could join them, or at least pick up on some of that joy. Instead, he walked past the bar, tuning out the noise. Though he did find it strange that guards were missing from their usual posts. Ambulon knew many of them had time off or kept an eye on the bar, but he'd at least see five or so patrolling the area.

Whatever. He didn't care. He just wanted to take a nice long shower, go back to his room, and sleep until work next morning.

Ambulon was about to unlock the door to the showers when there came a sudden loud explosion and a cry of voices. He whipped around, optics wide. Seconds later, people were scrambling out of the bar, off in the direction of the noises. Ambulon instinctively followed, hoping no one had been injured in... whatever was going on.

The shouting and screaming and cursing grew louder. Ambulon turned around the bar, halted clumsily. Guards were dragging in miners, hands cuffed behind their backs. Most struggled and fought, arguing with the officers. Another group went to dispersing the gathering crowds; a few miners even jumped in, offering to help their arrested brethren.

Ambulon winced at another explosive sound ringing in his ears. The crowd quieted and calmed a little as Armorshield emerged, lowering his blaster; he held one of Pinnacle's arm in a tight grip, the miner's hands bound behind his back as well. Ambulon widened his optics, just noticing Pinnacle was covered in energon. There didn't appear to be any wounds on the mech, so the energon must have been someone else's.

Either way, unlike his brothers, Pinnacle was calm and collected. He kept his head up high, remaining proud, even under arrest.

"The bar is shutting down for the night!" Armorshield yelled. "Get to your quarters! If you do not comply willingly, you will be escorted by an officer. Those who continue resisting will be thrown in the brig. Is this understood!?"

Some of the miners backed down, while others started demanding explanations. Guards shoved them aside, dragging their prisoners away from the crowds. The remaining officers rounded up the bystanders refusing to leave, pushing and ordering them to their quarters.

Ambulon kept his distance. He watched as Armorshield walked Pinnacle to a prison van. The others went in first, resisting the entire time. Pinnacle was last, however; as he started willingly climbing up into the van, he glanced back, caught the medic's optic.

Ambulon swallowed dryly.

Pinnacle stared at him for a second, serious, calm, until an officer shoved the barrel of his gun into his back and forced him inside. The thick doors slammed and locked shut and then the vehicle was off, escorted by four guards with Armorshield at the lead. Another van emerged from the other side of the building, though it didn't look like any prison van. Perhaps it was another officer?

Ambulon felt frozen in time, confused and a little nervous. By now, most of the miners were back inside, one or two officers standing guard at the building doors to make sure no one could leave. They hadn't noticed Ambulon, however, still sticking to the shadows, silent and concerned.

A flash of gold caught his optic, and he quickly looked aside. Ambulon stepped back upon seeing Extorque emerge from the office building. He was staring at something in his hand, his optics pale and almost white. He looked... horrified. Scared.

"Extorque?" Ambulon called, keeping as quiet as possible.

Extorque's fingers twitched. He slowly raised his head, looked at his colleague.

Ambulon's spark twisted at the sight of that miserable and betrayed expression.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to post another chapter. I was waiting to see results between issues 19 and 20. Quite heartbreaking! But maybe we'll see him in the flashback issue. Maybe we'll learn a bit more about him, too. Who knows!
> 
> I still would like to write and finish this story, so... Here it is. The end of act one. Please excuse any grammatical errors, of course. I'd like to go through the previous chapters and do some editing, so woo.
> 
> This chapter feels a little anticlimactic, buuuut... Hope you enjoy anyway.

The divide between the Solus Purists, gang members, and staff had widened, splitting at the very core.

It'd been five days since the incident. Pinnacle was in jail, Truncheon was dead, and the Purists were without a leader. Their focus, however, remained on exacting revenge on the remnants of RiffRaff's gang. Scattered fights broke out; two, to three a day. Security and medical personnel had their hands full.

The Purists had branched off into two families - those who were loyal to Pinnacle, and those to Truncheon. Fortunately, they seemed to be... attempting reconciliation. Trying to bring their family back together. However, it seemed a rather poor attempt, as occasionally the two groups would also clash fists.

Patients flowed in and out in those five days, one after the other, all due to wounds inflicted from fights. Thankfully, very few wounds were serious, but over the past two days, six mechs were sent to the hospital, one of which who was a security guard that had attempted to break up another fight. Though threatened with strict punishments, including a week's time in solitary or dock of pay, the miners continued with their brawls.

Arguments broke out between the staff. Sharpshift disagreed with punishments leading to solitary confinement. Armorshield believed it was the most effective, alongside cutting back their paychecks. Besides, Sharpshift was obviously losing his grip on his people, and Armorshield offhandedly remarked maybe the chief security officer needed assistance. Though by his cold look and tone, Sharpshift knew he really meant a replacement all together.

Ambulon was... tired.

Through all this mess, he still wasn't sure what to do about Fissure. He still hadn't received any type of news or feedback from his message to the police. The stress was almost overwhelming. Ambulon had went and seen Kickspeed and Maceforce one last time before they were shipped away to their respective hospitals. Tune Out was still upset with him over that spat a few days back. And for some reason, Extorque was avoiding him.

Extorque seemed... distant, even to others. As if he were simply floating in purgatory. Ambulon asked him what was wrong - as he did the night he saw Extorque and that horrible look on his face - but to no avail. Extorque wasn't telling. It was utterly infuriating, just as so much was this week, but Ambulon was too tired to pry. Too tired and too busy. If Extorque wanted to speak to him, he'd do it on his own time. Come to him first. Ambulon begrudgingly accepted this after three days of being ignored by his coworker and "friend".

Day six, and the fighting was at an all time high. Ten miners had been put into solitary confinement. Another two sent off to the hospital. Even Fissure, who had been unusually cheerful this entire time, was getting annoyed at the patient flow. He had to stay late one night, and God forbid he have to put in the extra work. Ambulon and Extorque worked harder than him - both of them knew it. They were sure it was obvious to even outsiders. But due to Fissue's CMO status, he could get away with most anything.

Apparently peddling bombs to wanted criminals was one of them.

Ambulon visited Zing and Zel's graves a day after their memorials were set up in Miner's Dirge. They'd been posted right next to Scrooloose's. Not out of some sort of respect, but because there was space. Reading Scrooloose's name carved crudely into his memorial stand, Ambulon looked around to check if the coast was clear before removing the laser scalpel he had brought along. He proceeded to carve Zel and Zing's names into their posts. Obviously if Scrooseloose's original stone remained untouched, the caretaker here didn't mind the "graffiti". He wished them a new, better life... wherever they were.

Truth be told, however, Ambulon still wasn't sure any afterlife existed.

Ambulon sighed and checked his chronometer.

Ten minutes 'til work day was over. He glanced to Extorque across the room, adding new supplies to the closet. He remembered - those Stims, they definitely... His cold gaze turned to Fissure's desk. The CMO had left an hour ago. Extorque had been pulling double shifts; whereas it was a rotation, the past five days, Extorque chose to stay after hours and tie up all the loose ends. Ambulon was surprised, but he knew there had to be a logical explanation behind his colleague overworking himself.

Extorque seemed the type to distract himself from his problems. No sense of confrontation. Actually, he was, Ambulon decided. He would rather bury his head in the sand than deal with facing whatever personal problems had been dropped into his lap. And Ambulon wasn't... At first he had been bitter, found Extorque to be cowardly, but now... After everything that was said and done, Ambulon was beginning to understand.

Maybe it was best to just... ignore things. Play oblivious. Ignorance was bliss, right?

Five minutes 'til shift was over.

Ambulon thought a moment. He poked idly at the stylus by his keyboard. Poked and poked and then said, almost to himself, "Are you doing anything after work?"

He knew Extorque heard him. Knew he was hesitant to answer. Ambulon kept his gaze on the stylus rolling against his finger. Poke poke poke.

"I'm okay."

Ambulon accidentally poked a little too hard. He sat upright, startled, as the device loudly hit the floor. He looked to Extorque, the medic's back to him, still sorting through bottles.

"I know you're worried," Extorque said, "but I'm okay. I just... I sort things out my own way. So... Thanks, but... no thanks."

Ambulon frowned. "... Right."

"Sorry."

Ambulon wasn't sure what to say to that. "Don't be, it's not your fault... whatever is bothering you"? He just kept his mouth shut. Waited the final three minutes before switching off his console. "I'm off," he mumbled. Extorque bobbed his head, but did not turn around.

Ambulon picked the stylus off the floor, set it back on his desk, and left.

\---

Day seven.

Sixteen miners brought to the medbay for wounds due to fighting. Sixteen lectures, growing more and more heated with every new patient. Sixteen lectures that sixteen people didn't bother to listen to. Sixteen pieces of advice and warnings sixteen patients completely ignored.

The worst of it all? Fissure was gone.

Extorque and Ambulon knew the official story. Off doing medical work in the city for a couple days. But Ambulon knew the truth, and it made his spark constrict with anger. Extorque was still choosing to remain oblivious; probably convinced himself that Fissure was still innocent. That Ambulon had been drunk and nothing he saw had been real.

Ambulon tried to focus on work. He nearly drove into a damn wall once, and half-slipped off a fortunately small cliff. He couldn't help but wonder what Fissure was _really_ up to. Who was he selling bombs or weapons to now? Was Coaldust his only customer? Where the Hell did he even get his hands on a nuke anyway? And was Coaldust's accidental death _really_ accidental?

He felt helpless. What was Fissure planning? Ambulon could have stopped him. What criminal psychopath was Fissure selling bombs to now? In the news tomorrow, would there be a story about another bombing? A mass murder? How many would be injured? How many would die? And all because Ambulon didn't say anything. Rather - no one would listen.

Ambulon skidded to a stop, dirt and rocks flying up behind his tires. He transformed and took a seat on the side of the makeshift road. Buried his face in his hands, and cursed and cursed and cursed.

_This had to end._

\---

"Fraggin' Pithole."

Tune Out was furious.

Armorshield had canceled the next high grade shipment. So because a few assholes started kicking up dust, _everyone_ had to pay? Why couldn't official staff and security get the high grade instead? They'd been working their asses off the past week. Especially since half of the miners down below decided to get into daily, frequent fights.

Tune Out had always been stationed above ground, to watch over the compound. To be honest, it had been a pretty sweet job with not much work to do. As bored as he got, Tune Out basically had it easy from his colleagues working in the mines. However, due to the increase of in-house fighting, Tune Out had been spending three days underground putting up with juvenile but violent miners. He'd almost lost an arm in breaking up one fight, and just this evening, he'd been punch in the damn eye.

Tune Out insisted Extorque see him to patch up his cracked optic. He ignored Ambulon completely. He was still mad at the doctor. A part of him knew he shouldn't be. He remembered how Boulderdash had given him the silent treatment, and how horrible and stupid it had been. Tune Out was not as mature as his younger colleague, but... Still. This entire fight _was_ dumb. And Tune Out couldn't half-blame him for his snapping; the guy had been through so much in the past few months. It wasn't his fault he was a little wound tight.

The young security officer paced at his post. He had another hour before his shift was over, but... Tune Out was bored. He was bored and feeling awful about ignoring Ambulon. He had to go see him - had to go apologize and then maybe play cards with Boulderdash. He'd tell Ambulon he was thinking about removing the camera the past two days - the doctor was right. It was useless, and even if it turned out to be a waste of money, well...

Whatever. Tune Out couldn't wait here any longer. He made sure no one saw him as he darted from his post, down the flight of stairs. Faced with two corridors. He had a perfect escape route with low chances of being seen or caught. It was a long way to the dorms, but it was worth it if it meant saving his ass.

Tune Out turned down the left corridor, still keeping watch. Down another flight of stairs until he reached the door to administration. The place was empty, and only security could get in. Tune Out had long discovered the security cameras needed replacing in this section of the building. For some reason, they were never fixed, and it was quite easy to evade their all-seeing eyes.

Using his code, Tune Out quietly entered the building. It had fifteen rooms facing one another with a large hall in between. Four cameras were mounted on the ceiling, and Tune Out couldn't help but notice that the first camera's light was flickering. God, this place seemed to be falling more and more apart.

Tune Out successfully evaded cameras one and two. The third would be a little more tricky, so he came at a slower, more calculated pace before taking that quick blind spot.

"... got a lot of work ahead of us."

That was - Tune Out froze, optics wide. There was someone--someone in the room in front of him. The door was cracked, and pale light barely reached out into the hall. Oh, God, and Tune Out almost made a run for it, but--

"Fissure's falling behind, and those fraggers are raising their prices on keeping quiet."

Tune Out blinked. That was... that was Sharpshift's voice.

"I know. Big A's mad, too."

And that... Draftwind? Tune Out didn't know the guy very well, though they'd been working together for years. Draftwind was a pencil-pusher, however, and spent most of his time doing paperwork and other boring stuff. However, why was he here? Why was _Sharpshift_ here?

And what were they talking about?

"We need to do something. And I'm concerned about M-2."

M-2? Code? Tune Out inched closer to the door.

"You're worried about M-2? What about M-3? He's the reason we're in this mess."

"Yeah, but... Well, M-2... He knows things."

"So? Fissure told us he does, but nothing we can't take care of should he decide to sell us out."

"His friend told him. Told him about my part in Erase."

"... Slag, you're kidding me."

"No. And while M-2's friend was able to bite his tongue, M-3..."

Tune Out squatted before the open door, one eye peeking through the slit. True enough, Sharpshift was standing before Draftwind sitting at his desk. They looked morose, angry.

"Then we've got to do something about M-2 and M-3. Fissure's in boiling acid with Big A, but not me. Not us. So let's make sure we _don't_ follow the good doctor."

"Did you have anything in mind?"

"Not yet. But they must be eliminated."

Tune Out wasn't sure what the two were talking about, but... It wasn't good. And it sounded as if people's lives were on the line. The miners went by designated numbers, following the word 'M'. Were they talking about killing miners M-2 and M-3?

Then, it occurred to him.

Tune Out half-smiled and glanced down at his hand.

Quietly, he switched on the recorder, gently placing his hand to the door. He couldn't get visual, but audio was perfect. The little red orb on his knuckle was glowing softly amid the dim office light.

"Do you think Big A was responsible for Coaldust's death?"

Tune Out's optics widened.

Okay, _now_ things were getting dangerous.

"Oh, I know so. All because of that stupid anonymous... Did you ever trace back its origin?"

"Fissure says it was M-3, and I believe him."

"Well, get to working on those papers. I want that bastard Pinnacle dead. Make up whatever you can to convince them. And, if we're lucky, Ambulon's execution will be soon to follow."

Tune Out was young, and at times, stupid. But above all, he was rash, and took too many risks. Boulderdash and Ambulon had warned him; one day, he would be caught, and a harsh reprimanding would be the least of his problems.

Tune Out slapped a hand to his mouth, but it was too late to stop the horrified gasp. The room fell silent, and then two pairs of terrified, angry optics were turned on him.

\---

Ambulon groaned as his internal alarm clock went off.

Day eight.

He sighed and rolled onto his side. Ambulon let the alarm continue ringing in his ears for another thirty seconds before switching it off. He kept his optics closed, listening to the miners slowly shuffle out of their rooms outside.

Optics slowly opened, and Ambulon stared at the grey wall. He stared for a whole minute before rolling onto his back, onto his feet. They felt heavy, and his actuators ached. He hadn't slept well; hadn't slept well for a week now. The fatigue was obvious in the dim light of his optics, the slight tremor in his hands. But the last thing he needed was to be put on "vacation" again, spending his time doing nothing in his room.

"Get it together," Ambulon growled, slapping his cheeks. He took out his morning energon and guzzled it down. Wiped his lips clean. Sighed. Headed out.

Ambulon joined the herd outside, to the elevators. Another day, another credit. He felt like a drone. He felt like sleeping. He felt like screaming.

However, someone got to the screaming before he could.

The miners stopped all at once, backing away from the elevators. One had resurfaced, and suddenly people were gasping. Ambulon looked around, confused. He pushed himself through the crowd, needing to get a look.

"Medic! Medic!"

Ambulon now wished he had stayed put. However, upon seeing him struggling, the miners politely and quickly stepped aside, allowing him clear passage to the elevators. Ambulon continued running, spotting three miners surrounding something. One was kneeling, his massive back to the medic, hiding whatever he had found.

"What is it?" Ambulon breathed, skidding to a halt. Two of the pale-eyed miners looked up; slowly, the third kneeling turned around, and in his arms--

Ambulon felt his morning energon rise in his throat. The body in the solemn miner's hands was mangled almost beyond recognition. Its head was hanging from its socket by only a few wires and pumps. One arm was bent in an awkward shape; right leg was missing. Optics had been pushed out of its cranium to dangle freely.

"Tune Out," Ambulon whispered, his knees weakening, " _Sigma_..."

"Can you save him?" the kneeling miner asked. "I--I found him, he... Down below, I found him."

"Looks like he musta fell."

"Ya think?"

Ambulon was struck silent, the horror wrenching at his spark.

"Doc?"

"What's going on here?"

Ambulon ignored Extorque. He kept his gaze on Tune Out's mangled face. Jaw hanging open in a look of terror.

Extorque dropped to one knee before the miner and corpse. His optics blazed, head whipping back in shock. "It..." He swallowed, and quickly looked to Ambulon standing nearby, completely frozen. He forced open the remains of Tune Out's chestplates, looked inside; he said nothing for a moment, optics dimming.

"He's gone."

"What the Pit is going on here!?" Sharpshift snarled, emerging from the crowd. He blanched and doubled-over at the sight of the corpse.

"We think he fell," a miner said. "He musta..."

Sharpshift scowled and looked away. "Primus dammit..."

"Did he... did he fall to his death?"

Extorque pursed his lips. "I... I can't say. I need--"

A familiar voice cried over the silent crowd, one Ambulon was afraid to hear.

"Whasschit!? Schome schaid Tune Out--!"

Boulderdash was practically mowing through the crowd. Those who did not step aside were pushed or knocked over. He came thundering over to the medics and miners hovering around Tune Out's corpse.

Ambulon snapped into action. "Get him out of here," he said, quickly, glaring at Sharpshift.

Sharpshift opened his mouth, wasn't sure what to say-- But it was too late. Boulderdash stumbled up beside Ambulon, nearly tripping. His orange optics fell on Tune Out's body, as Extorque carefully looked it over.

"Tune...?" Boulderdash whispered.

"I'm sorry," Ambulon said, quietly. He stood, carefully taking Boulderdash by an arm. "You need... you can't--"

The howl Boulderdash released was unlike anything Ambulon had ever heard before. He winced, his spark immediately dropping into his tank. Miners nearby seemed even more horrified by that intense cry. Boulderdash angrily shoved Extorque and the miner holding Tune Out away. He wrenched the corpse into his arms, falling onto his knees; he stared at the mangled body, so confused, before releasing another tortured howl.

Sharpshift frowned. "Bring the van around," he murmured to the nearest security guard.

No one was sure what to do. What to say. Boulderdash curled around the corpse, sobbing so hard his entire, massive body shook, armor clicking unhealthily against his heaving frame.

Ambulon looked to Extorque, who still seemed lost in thought.

A moment later, the EMT van pulled around. Ambulon remained glued in place as security officers attempted to take Tune Out from Boulderdash. But the miner wasn't letting go; and that soon became apparent when he slugged a prying officer nearly five feet away.

"Boulderdash!" Ambulon snapped. He ran up to the kneeling miner, hands... unsure, hovering over his back. "Boulderdash, you need to let him--"

"Let him go," Sharpshift ordered, "he's dead."

Boulderdash stopped wailing to finally raise his head. He gave Sharpshift a cold, and terrifying look.

Sharpshift swallowed and stepped back; he recomposed himself and pointed at the old miner. "Get him off the body!" he snarled.

Ambulon pleaded and argued with the security officers as they swarmed Boulderdash. They pulled and tugged and yanked carelessly. Boulderdash tried fighting them off, but soon there was an entire swarm on him, and something sharp and biting stung him in the throat. It didn't take long for the sedative to kick in; the old miner's optics shuttered closed and he slowly fell back, Tune Out's body free from his crushing embrace.

"Take him, too," Sharpshift scowled, nodding to the unconscious miner.

"I'll go."

Surprised, both Ambulon and Sharpshift looked to Extorque.

"Why?" Sharpshift demanded. 

"I administrated the sedative. He's now my patient," Extorque insisted. He watched the officers and a few helpful miners carry both Tune Out and Boulderdash into the EMT van. "Besides, his system is old. It may have an adverse reaction to the sedative," he explained. "So, I need to go. I need to monitor him."

Sharpshift sighed. "Once he's in the hospital's care, get your aft back here fast," he growled. "We can't have just one medic doing all the work down there."

Extorque nodded. He turned his firm gaze to Ambulon. "I won't be long," he said. He bowed his head, and looked up again. "... I'm sorry."

Ambulon was tired. So tired. He rubbed his face, and replied, quietly, "Just make sure Boulderdash is okay."

Extorque frowned. He loaded onto the EMT vehicle, keeping his inquisitive optics on Tune Out's body. The doors slammed shut, and sirens shrieked as the van took off.

Sharpshift moved to the front of the crowd. "Alright, everyone! Things are being taken care of! There's no need to worry!" he shouted, hands raised. "Everyone get back to work! We're already late on schedule by fifteen kliks!"

A few were sluggish to continue, but most obeyed. A minute later, and everyone seemed back to normal. Loading into the elevators in small groups, waiting in lines, yawning and scratching and sighing with fatigue.

A slow day that opened with a bang. It had happened so fast, for a moment, Ambulon wondered if it had ever happened at all.

\---

Today was going to be a very long day.

Fortunately, it did not start off with a fight.

Ambulon sat alone in the medbay, at his console. Staring blankly at the empty screen. A single word flashed at the center in vivid red: PASSWORD. He'd been glaring at that same flashing word for twenty minutes now, arms hanging at his sides.

He remembered Tune Out's face. The condition of his body.

He bolted from his seat and quickly went to throw up in the nearest sink.

Ambulon vomited and heaved until nothing came out but strands of spittle. He slowly opened his optics, a hand fumbling at the knob. Fluids gushed forward, swirling the mess down the drain. He stared at the drain, at the energon and disinfecting fluids circling it. And he thought of Tune Out - and Zel, and Zing, and Scrooloose; even Maceforce and Kickspeed.

 _Primus, was this_ his _fault?_

Ambulon ran his hands through the liquid, wiping his mouth and face clean. He stood, switching off the running fluids. A gurgle from the drain as the sink emptied.

Ambulon dragged himself back to his desk. Sat down. Typed in his password. Files popped open; a schedule of appointments and patients to be seen.

The medic went to work, though his mind was somewhere far away, and very dark.

\---

Extorque had returned to work two hours later. Once more, he was quiet and distant. He told Ambulon all he needed to know in regards to Tune Out and Boulderdash.

"Boulderdash is under heavy sedatives, but Sharpshift wants him to return to work tomorrow. Says we can't afford to lose anymore miners at this junction in time."

Ambulon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not surprised."

"Tune Out's autopsy..." Extorque trailed off. 

Ambulon blinked and looked up at him. "... And?"

Extorque produced a datapad, sitting it on the field medic's keyboard. "Tune Out's autopsy report. Apparently, he was overcharged and out wandering from his post when he accidentally tripped and fell through the shaft. Impact had been hard enough to crush and dislodge most of his body and organs. He died the moment he... hit the ground."

"Why was Tune Out overcharged?" Ambulon asked, confused. He skimmed the autopsy report. "Tune Out didn't drink on the job."

"Are you sure?"

Ambulon wasn't, but--

"Apparently he has a tendency to abandon his post. He's only been caught a few times in the past, however. But a few of his coworkers stood up and confessed to helping him. Mostly by keeping a look-out or agreeing to take his post while he went off and did... Well, they don't know what exactly, but they say it was for a miner friend of his." Extorque squinted. "Obviously Boulderdash."

Suddenly, Ambulon tossed the datapad across the room with a snarl. "This is false! It's all a lie!" He slammed a fist on his desk. "Tune Out-- He wouldn't drink on the job. He's been working here for cycles now, and he just--he just so _happens_ to forget about the giant aft hole in the ground!?"

"He was overcharged. He was not in control of all his--"

"No! It doesn't make sense!" Ambulon interjected. "This-- That report is a lie!"

Extorque bowed his head. "I did the autopsy, Ambulon..."

Ambulon's face twisted in shock. "... You can't believe... You can't _honestly_ believe--"

"The evidence is all there," Extorque said, firmly, "it all points to an accidental death due to falling while overcharged. I wouldn't make this up; I wouldn't..."

"You wouldn't?" Ambulon grit his teeth. "Finish it! You wouldn't _lie_ to me?"

Extorque raised his hands. "You're obviously distressed. Why don't you take a ten minute break and clear--"

"No!" Ambulon snarled. "I'm not 'distressed'! I'm _livid_!"

Extorque shook his head. "But--"

"How can you honestly--"

"Ambulon, listen--"

"--after everything--"

" _Ambulon_!"

It was Extorque's only warning before he backhanded Ambulon across the face. Ambulon's head jerked to the side, but he went quiet.

Extorque slowly lowered his hand, wearing an angry look. "Stop. Just... stop."

Ambulon turned his head back. Hand rubbing at the small tear in his cheek.

"Listen to me. Just... listen to me, for one slagging klik. Okay?"

Ambulon sorely met Extorque's gaze.

Extorque's anger faded into something sad. "... We need to talk," he said, quietly. "After work, I'd like... I'd like to take you to Last Resort. For a drink."

Ambulon was about to shoot him down, but by the serious look in his optics... Extorque was hiding something. Something he only wanted to share with Ambulon. Ambulon studied that face a moment; clenched a jaw and raised his head a little.

"Fine."

Extorque visibly relaxed. "Right," he said, "and... I'm sorry. For hitting you."

"It's fine," Ambulon said. "I think I needed it."

"Maybe just a little."

"... And I also think I should take your advice."

Extorque stared, waiting.

"About keeping quiet," Ambulon murmured. "If people suffer and die... It's not worth it." He bowed his head. "You were right. I should have just... ignored it."

Extorque opened his mouth. Shut it. "... I'm sorry," he apologized, again.

Ambulon thumbed at the small cut on his cheek. "Let's just get back to work."

\---

Ambulon figured after everything that had happened today, the miners might set aside their differences and just mourn the innocent lost.

But, of course, Tune Out was a security guard. He was Vosian. He wasn't one of _them_. His death did not count; it did not matter. So they continued fighting, and Ambulon had to ask Extorque to fix up the few who came in with injuries. He couldn't face these thoughtless people; these people who cared about nothing but themselves and their tiny little world and its ridiculous prejudices and grudges.

When the day was over, Ambulon made a bolt for the door. He stopped, suddenly, and turned. Extorque was at his desk, sifting through 'pads.

"When did you want to go?"

"Meet me there in forty-five kliks," Extorque said, without looking up. "I've something to finish up here."

Ambulon nodded. "See you then."

Extorque raised and swished a dismissive hand. "Yeah."

\---

Ambulon would wait fifteen minutes before leaving. Extorque wouldn't mind, he knew. He probably had a lot of work to do, anyway.

\---

So, Tightclinch had killed himself.

He knew too much. He saw too much. And his silence cost him his sanity. To end the pain without dragging his brother into this madness, he killed himself. He went down into the mines that day, and he waited. He waited until the explosives went off, and maybe he found peace, maybe he smiled, finally free, as the rocks and debris came down on him.

Extorque stared at the chip.

Would he suffer the same fate? Would his silence eventually devour him, drive him to suicide?

Extorque sat the chip aside. He scanned the message he'd written up. Hesitated before hitting 'send'. A confirmation it went through, and he switched off his screen. Bridged his hands together and bowed his head, optics closing.

No.

"You're wrong."

This needed to end. Ambulon, you're wrong. You shouldn't take his terrible advice. Even if it caused sacrifices, if it could save hundreds more... It was worth it, Extorque decided. It was all worth it. And he was just sorry he never put his faith in Ambulon until now.

Extorque picked up the small chip. He opened a compartment on his arm, slipped it inside; plating clicked, locked shut.

This needed to end. And tonight, it would.

\---

Five minutes. Ambulon should go. He looked to the door, but stayed put.

\---

Extorque switched off his console. Went about his routine. Put away files, made sure everything was clean and sterilized for tomorrow. Cleaned up his desk a little.

The door closed.

Extorque went tense. His hands remained on his desk, body bent forward. Though he hadn't heard it open, he had clearly heard the door close. And no one was suppose to be down here - even Sharpshift had left ten minutes ago.

It was just Extorque, and...

Extorque swallowed. The footfalls were quiet, very, very quiet. For all he knew, this was... this was nothing. He was just scared for no reason. But why... Why were they quiet? Why didn't they say their name, state their business? The footfalls drew closer, until Extorque knew the stranger was only five feet away.

Breathing carefully, Extorque slowly slipped a hand into his open drawer. Fingers clenched around a laser scalpel. "You got five seconds to tell me who you are, and why you're down here, before I call security," he ordered.

\---

Ambulon would wait one more minute. One more minute wouldn't kill them.

\---

The silence continued. Extorque squeezed the scalpel tighter. Two seconds, three, four - Extorque grit his teeth, switched on the glowing blade, and whipped around. The scalpel nicked something - the stranger's face, and they stumbled back an inch only to quickly recover. Extorque looked up, and saw - they were wearing a mask.

A tear along the bottom of the left optic, and their gaze was furious.

"Who are--"

The masked figure raised his hands, the box opening in Extorque face. He gasped, optics wide, as spores from the Venio flower burst from their petals and into his mouth. Extorque gagged, grabbing at his throat; too late, he had already swallowed one. The masked figure calmly shut the little box as the medic fell against his desk. He tried to grab something for leverage, but dizziness had already set in. Datapads and a lamp fell on top of him as he hit the ground, rolling onto his side.

The masked figure placed the box containing the beautiful but deadly flower beside Extorque. As quietly as they came, they left.

\---

Ambulon sighed.

He should go. He should have left fifteen minutes ago. But... He honestly didn't know why he hesitated. Maybe he just... wasn't in the mood. But if Extorque was hiding secret information, he had to know. Especially if it was about Tune Out.

Ambulon gathered a few credits, pocketed them in a spare compartment. He picked a few bits of remaining dirt from his shoulder joint before heading to the door.

The fist pounding on his frosted window nearly shattered the glass.

Ambulon jumped back, wide-eyed. The hand dropped, and then the door knob was rattling hard.

A transmission over the emergency commlink.

_Me... M-Me..._

Ambulon instantly sprinted forward, unlocking and opening the door. He caught Extorque before he could hit the ground.

"What's wrong!?" Ambulon demanded. The medic's optics were pale, and a quick surface scan showed something was very wrong. "What happened to you!?"

Extorque wheezed, hand gripping his chest. "Sh... shut..."

Ambulon first helped Extorque onto his bed, laid him out, before shutting and locking the door. When he turned, Extorque was back on the floor on his knees. "Lay down!" Ambulon ordered, rushing to his side. He took Extorque's shoulders-- his armor was shaking, and very, very warm. "Let me examine you."

"S-Spore... too... too late..." Extorque croaked. He doubled over with a grimace; Ambulon quickly helped sit him back up. He was startled by the streaks along Extorque's chest; he'd been clawing at his plating, fingers flecked in specks of paint.

"Extorque, what--"

"Spore, can't... can't..."

It took a moment before Ambulon remembered where he heard 'spore' from. "... The Venio flower?" he murmured, a chill running down his backstrut. "Don't tell me... don't tell me you..."

"N-Nnnot me..." Extorque whimpered. He grit his teeth, nearly shattering them. "Se... set up... Found it. Listen. Lisssten."

"We need to get you to the--"

"No... No!" Extorque cried, and rivets of energon poured from the edges of his mouth.

"What!? What is it!?"

Extorque took a moment to breath. Or at least try. He could feel the spore slowly consume his spark. "T... This..." he mumbled. The compartment on his shaking arm flipped open. "In... inside."

Ambulon blinked, but slowly reached inside. He removed the small microchip. "What is this?" he asked, growing more and more confused by the second.

"Listen... listen... to..." Extorque groaned. He curled forward again, arms wrapped around him. "Truth... It recorded..."

"Recorded what?"

"Tune... gun shot t-to chest... pushed off... make it l-look... accident. H-Hide... g-gun shot..."

"Tune Out was murdered?"

Extorque coughed, energon splashing his knees. Before Ambulon could protest, he shot out a hand, weak fingers closing around Ambulon's arm. Slowly, he raised his head, one optic completely offline. "... Did it-- I... did it."

"Did--did what?"

"S-Scroo... I... k-killed him..."

Ambulon stiffened.

"He... They w-wouldn't have... let him... U-Useless if he... can't work m... mines..."

Ambulon couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So you..."

"Would have... strip-stripped his... parts... b-body... D-Do this... to dead... miners..." Extorque wheezed and coughed again. "Couldn't... let them. Uploaded... virus... d-destroyed spark. Destroyed... body. I... I s-saved him... f-from them..."

"Extorque, you shouldn't... Don't talk. You need to--"

"Tightclinch killed... self. Let secrets... kill him." Extorque chuckled, bitterly, more energon dripping from his lips. "Not... not me. I... I. Y-You." He forced himself to sit upright, wincing painfully. He squeezed Ambulon's arm tighter, opening his remaining optic. He met Ambulon's frightened, shocked gaze. In a tiny, tired voice, he whispered, "... s-stop it. Stop... them. B-Break... cycle."

Ambulon swallowed. "How...?"

Extorque half-nodded at the microchip. He drew back, taking a deep breath. "... You... you were right. I'm... s-sorry." His grip loosened, fingers sliding down Ambulon's arm. "It... It..." He fell forward, Ambulon quickly catching him in his arms. "H-hurts, hurts... s-so much..." He croaked and wheezed, engines sputtering. "... S-Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Stop," Ambulon grumbled. He wrapped an arm over Extorque's shoulders, pulling him closer.

Extorque closed his optic. "... Y-Yeah," he whispered, rust now dribbling from the corners of his mouth. "... S-Stop."

Ambulon said nothing more. He watched the rise and fall of Extorque's body until he went absolutely still. The engines and heavy cycling quieted. The glow disappeared from his optic. Ambulon slipped fingers along Extorque's neck, and...

Ambulon sat there for a while. Holding Extorque's body, the microchip still in one hand. He sat there for a while, said nothing, did nothing. Just kept his arm around Extorque's body, and held him close.

It had all happened so fast, Ambulon didn't know if it even happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Act 1.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New surroundings, new people, same guilt.

Sector 9-10 was another Cybertronian based energon mining facility. It was a fair distance from S5-6, covering Sectors 9 through 10. The mines were not as deep as those in S5-6, but they ran a great deal longer. It was situated nearby the town of Vos, with a little over one hundred and sixteen miners.

The shuttle pulled up to the entrance-way of S9-10; a moment later, miners unloaded, one by one.

Ambulon was the last to step off. He stood at the door a moment, studying the post. It was not too unlike his old place of employment - large administration building, dormitory for the miners and staff, and then elevators leading down into the mines; giant steel walls surrounded the estate, cutting it off from the rest of the world.

"Now or never, buddy," the bus driver grunted.

Ambulon frowned and finally took the last step. The door slammed shut, the bus taking off in a hurry. In one hand, he held a small suitcase, which didn't contain much. Just a couple tokens and the necessary paperwork he'd need to hand over to the administrator once he arrived.

Ambulon quietly followed a few miners inside. Left mostly ignored, though some lingering outside the dorms did notice and stare at the new face. There was no makeshift bar, either; but the small town of Vixen was only a few minutes away. No need for a bar here. Ambulon kept his head down, gaze forward, trying not to attract any attention; just as he approached the administration doors, a tall, lithe, mono-eyed 'bot popped out, his yellow optic bright with excitement.

"Yoooou must be Ambulon!" the white-yellow 'bot said. He reached out a hand, touching Ambulon's shoulder in greeting. "My name is Antigen. And you're my new colleague! Welcome to S9-10, or Fort Nineteen as we like to call it. 'Cause, you know, ten plus nine... Anyway, yeah, I'm Antigen!"

"Yeah," Ambulon replied, simply, "you're the CMO's nurse."

"Nephrite's, yes." Antigen nodded. "So happy to have you aboard! We've been very excited for your arrival. Our old field medic quit due to an injury, so we've been needing a new one for some time now. But I figured that was covered in your introductory packet. Geode is so psyched to meet you - oh, Geode, he's the big guy, runs this place up-top, really a go-getter, great spir--wait, yeah, you should know this already."

Ambulon nodded.

"Going to deliver your datawork?" Antigen asked. Before he could answer, the nurse said, "I'll come with you. Show you around! Once we meet with Geode, I'll show you your suite, and then we can check out the medbay downstairs!"

"Okay."

Well, at least this guy had enthusiasm.

Antigen led Ambulon inside. As they headed past the offices and security officers, Antigen immediately started chattering again. "So, how was your vacation?" he asked, chuckling. "I hear Tectonia is beautiful this time of the cycle. I’ve never been. I want to go one day, though.”

Ambulon shrugged. "It was nice." And it wasn't really a... vacation.

"Been out for a deca, right? Scrap, wish I could take all that time off," Antigen laughed. "We get weekends free, you know. I mean, we're always on-call, but in general, weekends are usually kick-back-relax days. Also, for vacation and sick days, you--"

"The packet covered everything," Ambulon interjected. Antigen just bobbed his head. They stepped into the elevator, and it was quiet for almost five seconds--

"So, read what happened at S5-6," Antigen said. Sighed and shook his head. "Terrible, terrible tragedy."

Ambulon's lips tightened into a thin frown. "Yeah. It was."

"But you'll find Fort Nineteen is so much better, I don't mean to brag. We're cleaner, have better safety regulations. Sure, we got ourselves a couple of _those_ types..." he trailed off with a grumble and chortle. Solus Purists and convicted criminals serving their time in the mines, Ambulon figured. "But all and all, we're a pretty tight-knit, close community. No drama. Last fight here was almost a megacycle ago! Even then, it was trivial and no one was seriously injured. I was on the job at the time, you know. Was in the middle of my stasis nap, too! So rude, but what are you gonna do? Pay's okay, so can't complain about the little spats every now and then, as rare as they are."

Ambulon just... kept quiet. Listened. Didn't have much to add to the conversation. As one-sided as it was. Antigen continued boasting about the "friendly environment" of the facility as they headed off the elevator and into the administrating officer's building.

"And if you're interested, I can take you to Vixen; small town, but kind of a party town, yet humble in its--"

"Ambulon!"

Ambulon looked up as a dark green mech opened the office door, greeting him with a smile. There was a notable scar beneath his right optic. "Antigen, stop talking his audiol off," he said.

Antigen scowled. "I was only telling him about Nineteen and Vixen."

The officer chuckled. "Sorry about him, Ambulon. He's got no tongue to bite, so he tends to ramble," he said. He nodded in greeting. "Come in, come in."

Ambulon followed, a sulking Antigen in tow. The office was neat and tidy, a holograph of the officer with a group of miners hanging above his desk.

"I know you've got everything covered, but first impressions are imperative," the officer said. He gestured to the empty chairs before his desk. The medics took their seats, quietly. "As you know, my name is Geode. I am the facility's administrator. The go-to guy for business and happenings here at Fort Nineteen alongside Arclight below." He sat at his desk, hands folding together. "And Nephrite should be here shortly."

"Nice to meet you, Geode," Ambulon replied, though he was lacking the same cheerfulness. So far, these people were the exact opposites of their S5-6 counterparts. Ambulon quietly removed his datawork, handing it over to Geode.

"Thank you." Geode sat it aside for now. He thrust a thumb back at the holograph on his wall. "I used to be a miner, you know. Worked nearly twenty megacycles down below, day in, day out. Hard work, and I busted my aft. But my predecessor saw potential in me, and sent me to the University of Vos. Two megacycles later, I'm taking over his job, and he's off retiring in some quiet, cozy little resort in Tesarus." He smiled again. "What I'm saying is: we treat everyone here as an individual with promise. There is no herd mentality, no sense of superiority over each other. Your alt mode does not make you who you are. My officers and the miners get along great, and it is my main priority, aside from my staff's safety, to see we remain a peaceful, united community."

Geode sat forward, his smile replaced with something sympathetic, even a little pitying. "I understand Five Six was... Well, it was rough. I know they have problems. Gang members, ex-cons, Solus Purists, favoritism, strife between officers and miners. Here, we avoid all that. While we do, unfortunately, have a few unsavory folk working below, they are nonetheless harmless and mostly keep to themselves. We understand that your... transfer was court ordered, and there had been some trouble at Five Six, but we want you to know that now that you've joined us, you're part of our family, and we want to see that you're happy here." He grinned widely again. "When you're happy, you work happy, and the happiest work is the best of work."

Ambulon wasn't sure what to say. "... I see," he replied, "then I guess I'll have no problem fitting in."

Geode chuckled. Antigen loudly cleared his vocalizer, and all eyes were turned on him. He glared, arms folded, and huffed, "Can I talk _now_ , or am I gonna get scrap?"

Geode smirked and swished a hand.

Antigen's optic brightened again. He turned to Ambulon. "The only guys you really have to watch out for--"

"Sorry I'm late. Break just started."

Antigen growled, earning a surprised look from the mech who suddenly walked into the office. He ignored the pouting medic, immediately spotting Ambulon. "You're Ambulon, then," he said, and his dialect suggested he was from the south of Cybertron. "I'm Nephrite. Chief Medical Officer of Fort Nineteen."

"Pleasure."

"Introductions out of the way?" Nephrite asked. "Sorry, they _both_ tend to talk too much."

Antigen hissed while Geode merely laughed. "Well, everything else should be covered in the packet. But if you have any questions, ask any of us. We'll be happy to answer." He waved a hand at the door.

Ambulon nodded and stood. He shuffled out of the office with his two new coworkers. Nephrite went ahead and once out of earshot, Antigen leaned over to Ambulon and murmured, "Don't let his calm demeanor fool you. He may be a nice guy but he's also a hard-aft. Nitpicky, too."

"I _can_ hear you."

"A-Ah."

\---

The room is cold.

Ambulon has been sitting here, alone, for nearly an hour now, ever since the officer escorted him in.

He says nothing. Hands on the table. Optics staring across the room. Not at the mirror along the wall; he knows it's a two-way mirror. There's probably officers watching him from the other side. Waiting for him to do... something.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens. Ambulon looks up. Two officers and a perturbed looking mech enter. The officer and mech take seats at the table, while the third stands guard at the door, listening, watching.

The officer sitting, a portly mech, places the tape on the table. Slides it over to Ambulon. "We've got some questions," he says.

"Yes?"

"First off, we'd like to know: why did you wait a half-groon before alerting security after Extorque passed away?"

"He was murdered," Ambulon corrects, and the perturbed mech gives him a pointed look. "And... I was in shock. Besides, the police haven't been very helpful in the past."

"How do you mean?"

Ambulon glowers. "I was the one who sent that anonymous tip about Coaldust," he states. "I was the one who saw Fissure in the old Saxum mines, selling a weapon that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a nuclear warhead, to Coaldust. And you people did nothing. I saw no investigation or response whatsoever."

"How do you know it wasn't an undercover operation?" the thin-mech asked. "How do you know police _haven't_ been investigating Fissure's background? How do you know there isn't an ongoing case being held as we speak? And from what the recording tells, your friend was guilty of murder himself."

Ambulon hisses. "It was a mercy killing. When miners are injured--when they can't work anymore-- they deactivate them. Make it look natural; cover it up. Then they use their parts for equipment or scrap metal."

"And you're positive of this? This is a very big accusation you're making, and with little to no evidence to back up your claim, it isn't looking very good for you."

"The point is," Ambulon presses, "Extorque killed Scrooseloose to keep the hospital from killing him and using his parts. That's why he chose the virus; the Erosivirus. It destroyed Scrooseloose's entire body, so there'd be no parts or pieces left for them to use. He just--he wanted to give Scrooseloose a... He couldn't help him, so he did what he thought was best. Just tried to... to give Scrooseloose some dignity in death, at least."

Portly frowns. "There is no evidence to back your theory up. What you're saying: have you seen any of these murders taking place for yourself? What else do you have to go by besides Extorque's dying word? Are there other eye witnesses?"

"I trusted Extorque. He wouldn't lie to me. And though he only told me with his last breath, I knew... I knew for a while, something had been eating him up. I now realize it was guilt." Ambulon bows his head. "He felt horrible for what he did. He was no cold-sparked murderer."

"You trusted him, when the only time he was completely honest with you was when he had nothing more to lose?"

"It's... It's not like that."

Portly looks to the thin-faced mech then removes a datapad from a spare compartment. "We found this in Extorque's belongings," he says. He places it on the table. Ambulon looks at it. "It's a notice for a court hearing in regards to his possession of the Venio flower. Apparently, his license was temporary, and had recently expired. The flower was suppose to be shipped off planet or destroyed meta-cycles ago. But according to our records, Extorque never responded or showed up for the summoning. Police were about to issue a warrant for his arrest only a few days after he died." He taps on the datapad. "Not to mention, it appears your friend was breaking two safety protocols by keeping it down in the mines in a condition deemed unsafe."

"Sharpshift allowed it. So did Fissure," Ambulon insists. "Maybe he lied about Armorshield, I don't know. But if Sharpshift and Fissure knew it was illegal, why did they allow it? Did you ask Sharpshift?"

"Sharpshift says it was only temporary housing. Extorque was suppose to move the Venio plant two days after it was placed in the labratory. He said he spoke with Extorque, who assured him the flower had been moved out of the mines and in more stable, safe conditions. He even did a sweep of the lab and found nothing; as you recall, Extorque had hid the plant."

"I find that hard to believe. Especially after listening to that recording. He was--is--involved with Fissure in these dealings. _They're_ the real killers, the real criminals." He shakes his head and sits up. "But you listened to the recording, right? Tell me, what are you going to do? Launch an investigation? Arrest them?"

Portly looks to the thin-faced mech again. "We are in the middle of collecting more data," he says.

"They're talking about _murdering_ people on that tape! Sharpshift even outright says he wants Pinnacle _dead_!"

"Wanting someone dead, and actually killing them are two different things."

"What!? Do an autopsy on Tune Out! I bet you'll find a gun wound! Sharpshift and Draftwind _killed_ him then made it appear as an accident. They killed Extorque, too, using the Venio - it would appear as some sort of accident, that the blame all fell on Extorque for being too clumsy or ill-prepared or whatever! And you know what? I wouldn't be surprised if Sharpshift and Fissure were responsible for RiffRaff's death, and the death of so many miners before him."

"We have no way of knowing this tape was doctored, or tampered with. We cannot be sure these are even Sharpshift and Draftwind's voices until we run it through our technicians. This may even be a case of framing. And there's absolutely no evidence thus far linking Sharpshift and Fissure to RiffRaff's death. Especially when eye witness reports state it was an accident due to a collapse in the mines."

"Unbelievable. _Un_ believable!"

"Don't worry. We are taking these matters very seriously, but we want to be one hundred percent positive in regards to the legitimacy of the evidence before we make any moves or arrests."

"I honestly hope you just do something soon, before someone else gets hurt or killed."

\---

"It isn't much, but it's home."

Ambulon stepped into the room.

Antigen chuckled and added, "Well, _new_ home."

It was only a few inches bigger than his old room back at "Five Six;" there was a slab, desk, and closet for storage. A single closed window above his bed.

Antigen watched as Ambulon walked to his desk, placing his small suitcase on it. "Need help unpacking?" he offered. "Doesn't look like you brought much. Haha, you should have seen what I brought when I came here - and my junk pile's been growing ever since! Sigma, my room's a cluttered mess. I really should throw things out. But I've been meaning to do that for cycles now. I really should actually, you know, do it. I'd have so much more room, too."

Ambulon popped open his briefcase. Removed a few personal items.

"What's that?"

Ambulon looked to Antigen, then back to the object in his hand. A single crystal rose; all that was left of the bouquet Zing, Zel, and Kickspeed had bought him. "It was a gift," he said, sitting it aside.

"From the Crystal Gardens? Wooow. Must have cost a couple hundred shanix. Those things are expensive, if they're from the Crystal Gardens." Antigen pressed a finger to his chin, looked to the ceiling. "Hmm, now that I think about it, I've never been to the Crystal Gardens, either! Only ever seen photos. And a brochure for an Iacon getaway retreat. I really wanted to take that vacation, too."

Ambulon cleared his throat, Antigen immediately shutting up. "So," he said, nodding to the door, "how about you show me my workplace."

\---

There's nothing left of Extorque. Body was incinerated to avoid any possible spreading of the disease. Ambulon told them it was safe, but they insisted on being cautious. He couldn't really blame them.

The parting ceremony is very small. Extorque did not have a lot of friends. But Ambulon is surprised to find Xinex, the professor who originally discovered the Venio flower, has left his station on C-11 to attend the ceremony. They bow their heads in respect as Extorque's name is carved in the list plaque of all the casualties who passed away in the mines during their brave service. 

Ambulon notes, however, there are few names - few miner names, or even numbers. This monument is only for the staff, the officers, the doctors - those considered _real_ people worthy of respect. It makes Ambulon sick, but now is not the time. After Extorque's name joins the rank of all the others before him, Ambulon looks up, and--

He feels his spark twist and tank churn when he spots Fissure at the back of the small crowd. He's there and he looks solemn, looks as if he's actually grieving. But Ambulon knows. Fissure is here to gloat, and maybe he is here to mock Ambulon as well. He has survived, he is free, and even if the police are hounding him after Ambulon's testimony as well as the recording's evidence, he is not afraid. He is proud, and Ambulon is no threat to him.

Ambulon finds himself turning, to move through the mourners, to walk right up to Fissure and punch him in the face, but then a hand is on his shoulder. He looks back and up, surprised, to see Xinex frowning at him. And it's almost as if Xinex... knows. As if he, too, knows Extorque's death was no accident. But he closes his optics and shakes his head; no, now is not the time.

Ambulon curses internally, but Xinex is right. He gives Fissure and his false look of pity one last glare before turning back to the monument to give his final farewell.

\---

There was, most definitely, a certain... peace. In the atmosphere.

Miles below the planet, and the mines look just as they did back in S5-6, but it felt different here. There was a lack of tension. A lack of... hatred, Ambulon thought. The miners who rode with him in the elevator, those that he passed, they were calm, hard-working; some were laughing and chatting with one another. This place was more inviting and more welcoming, and Ambulon had wondered if this was normal.

If S5-6 had been the outcast.

"You programmed the map's layout into your database, right?" Antigen asked as they walked ahead.

"Yes," Ambulon replied. "When do we..." He trailed off when Antigen stopped. Looked up; to his right, the medbay, carved into the wall, just like at S5-6. Unlike S5-6, however, the security office was carved into the left side of the wall, adjacent.

"As you can guess," Antigen said, pointing to the office, "that's security HQ. Geode takes care of things from above, but chief security officer down here is Arclight. He's kind of a stingy guy; not very easy to get along with, but stay on his good side and work hard, and you'll earn his respect. He shares the same mold as Decimus - you know, the Senator? So we sometimes call him Dirtimus." He laughed. "But don't call him that to his face. It slags him off. A rookie made that mistake on his first day on the job and then found himself transferred to Outpost C-09 on that backwater jungle-planet. Eesh, talk about cruel and unusual punishment, am I right?"

Antigen gestured Ambulon to the medbay, weaving around a few miners. "Arclight's second in command is a cool fellow named Kopis. He's definitely the one you want to go to instead of Arclight if you can. You'll probably see him on the field a lot. But, anyway..." He stopped to open the door to the medbay, stepped aside and swept a hand forward.

Ambulon walked into the medbay. Larger than the one at S5-6, and much nicer, too. Three desks, total; Nephrite's was at the front by the viewing window; the desk with all the junk and toys on it was obviously Antigen's. Nestled comfortably in the back, an empty desk with only the bare essentials, waiting just for him. There were ten stalls that served as patient rooms; most had curtains for doors, while three others had frosted glass. Probably for emergency surgeries. One door to the supply closet, another to the laboratory.

"Nephrite's still on break, I guess," Antigen said, looking around. He shrugged and gestured to Ambulon's desk. "This is where--"

"That the new guy!?"

Antigent jumped with a loud shriek, nearly knocking Ambulon over. A miner in the standard black and yellow colors poked his head out of the nearest room, big, blue optics wide and curious.

Antigen cursed. "Fragging Sigma dammit Silt!" he snapped. "Don't do that!"

The miner ignored him, walked up to Ambulon. A giant of a mech, his frame closely resembled Scrooseloose's. "So you're Ambulon, huh? Yer the one who'll be replacin' me," he smirked.

"He's _not_ your replacement," Antigen scowled. He turned to Ambulon. "While we've been short a field medic, Silt's been helping us out here and there. Mostly bringing us injured patients. He's not a medic, though. Far from it."

"But I'm a fast learner," Silt huffed. "An' I kinda liked this job, too..."

"Go report to Arclight, tell 'em you're back on duty," Antigen ordered.

"Hold on," Silt said, and went back into the room. He emerged a moment later with a small box. "Nephrite asked me to organize these. I'm 'bout done."

"You can--"

"Ten kliks, Solus forge," Silt cursed. He shuffled off, tuning out the annoyed medic.

Ambulon blinked. "Is he a Solus Purist?" he asked, quietly.

"Kind of," Antigen grumbled. "We don't talk about it, though. Politics stay out of the medbay, and the mines. Gotta keep this place running smoothly, you know." With a loud, defeated sigh, Antigen walked to Ambulon's desk, giving it a firm pat. "But, from now on in, this'll be your home away from home." He turned, switching on the computer. "Everything is up to date in the databanks. We've got a schedule already programmed in for you."

"Tha--"

"Oh, and before I was so rudely interrupted by Nephrite."

Ambulon decided it best not to say anything in response to that.

"I told you, there's a couple mechs down here you wanna look out for. Geode wasn't lying when he said we got a few troublemakers," Antigen said. He lowered his voice. "Anyway, there's six in particular. Lattice, Stormwater, Runoff, Baseflow, and..." The medic paused, optic rolling off to the side. "... I forget the last two's. But they're not my patients, so, uh... Anyway! Lattice, Runoff, and Other Miner Number One are all ex-cons. Runoff used to be a Stim dealer, got charged with assault and battery on a Vosian officer. Lattice is one of his henchmen who is, uh, well... Not all the lights are on upstairs, know what I mean? And Other Whatever One is just a general aft-face who likes to pull pranks."

"I see," Ambulon replied, keeping note of these names. And lack-thereof. "And the other three?"

"Stormwater, Baseflow, and Whatever Two are Solus Purists. Hardcore ones. They were also forged with no fraggin' backstruts, so they don't cause no trouble. But you can tell somethin's going on up there. I read about the Solus Purists at Fort Eleven - or S5-6, 'cause, you know, five plus six - anyway - and pit, these crazies sound like the type to join that cult in a sparkpulse. I sometimes see them trying to recruit others, but most everyone here is pretty content on staying out of trouble. But I swear on the Prime they love oh-so-much that if they had enough followers, they'd try taking over this place, too."

Ambulon frowned. "But they've never caused any trouble?"

"Nah. But Baseflow, he's been in here a few times; always refused treatment. We practically gotta hold him down to fix him. Fortunately we haven't had any reason to get too physical with him." Antigen tittered. "Imagine annual system flushes. Yeaaah, it's like we gotta tranq the glitch to get him to cooperate."

"At least the numbers are smaller," Ambulon mumbled. "Unlike Five Six."

"So, _that's_ where you come from."

Antigen sighed. "Are you done--"

"I got me a friend who worked a stint there," Silt said, placing the box on Nephrite's desk. He approached the two medics, voice quiet and omnious, "He calls it Slime Palace. Place is _full_ of slime. And it don't come from the rocks..."

"Who told you that? Was it Quickmix? I bet it was Quickmix. You know Quickmix; he's always blabbering and spouting nonsense and just says stuff so people pay attention to him. F - Y - I, Ambulon - don't listen to like, ninety percent of what Quickmix has to say."

Ambulon just... nodded. Really, all he could do. It felt as if he had walked right into the middle act of a play. This place seemed more lively, more involved. And he wasn't sure he belonged; at least, it would take a while before he did. As nice as these people were, it wasn't... it wasn't what he was used to.

Truth be told, Ambulon wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to get used to it. Become like them. Because that meant... forgetting things. And he couldn't do that, not after what happened--

"But, anyway, Ambulon!" Antigen said, snapping the medic out of his daze. "What do you think so far?"

Ambulon looked to Antigen, then Silt. He glanced to his desk. "... It's nice," he said. Paused. "It will take some getting used to."

Antigen, however, was a little disappointed. How anticlimactic! "Yeah, well, you're smart," he reassured, "you'll adjust quickly!" He slapped Ambulon on the back with a hearty laugh.

Ambulon forced on a half-smile. "I'm sure."

\---

"... announce the accused not guilty."

"What!?"

Ambulon can't believe what he is hearing. He rises abruptly, slamming his hands down on the desk. His representative stays quiet, head bowed. "With all the evidence, your verdict is _not guilty_!?" he snarls. He looks to Sharpshift, Fissure, and their representatives sitting off to the side. Sharpshift is smiling, not even trying to hide it.

"We uncovered very little evidence to support your accusations," the Overseer says. "In regards to Tune Out and Extorque's deaths, each of the prosecuted had confirmed alibis. They were nowhere near the crime scenes."

"Alibis!? They're lying!"

"And what evidence do you have to prove the contrary?"

Ambulon curses. He's caught there.

"An autopsy was preformed on Tune Out. Cause of death was due to mass trauma from an accidental fall while intoxicated."

"But the gun--"

"There was no such wound," the Overseer interjected. "As for Extorque - we studied security footage in the medbay during his time of death; we uncovered nothing out of the ordinary or damaging to the prosecuted. We found the remains of the Venio flower in Extorque's suite. His dorm-neighbor claims he heard screaming from Extorque's room; when he went to check, Extorque had run out of the room. When the neighbor investigated his suite, there was no one else to be found. The time between his scream and the neighbor's intervention left no window of opportunity for the assailant or assailants to escape."

"The Venio flower was put there _after_ Extorque was murdered!" Ambulon insists. "And Sharpshift is chief security officer! He can manipulate or switch off the vid-feeds at will! Draftwind also has access to security feeds, and most likely helped him edit or omit any evidence caught on film! Assuming they hadn't turned the cameras off before they killed Extorque!"

"There is, again, no evidence to support this, especially with Sharpshift, Fissure, and Draftwind's strong alibis."

"But--"

"We did, however, find the murder weapon used to kill M-36," the Overseer states. "Given his self-confession, and the fact he did not respond nor go through with his court summons in regards to the possession of the Venio flower, we are led to believe Extorque never preformed the autopsy on Tune Out, and the--"

"What about the recording!?" Ambulon snarls. "You can't deny what you heard! And did you look into Zel's death at all? Fissure called him into a private meeting, injected Zel with a fatal dose of Stims, and used him to attack me!"

Fissure laughs in disbelief. "Overseer, I must intervene, but this is nonsense. I _never_ held any sort of 'private meeting' with M-15. The Stims had been removed two days prior to his overdose. The only way he could have gotten his servos on the drug was via RiffRaff or one of his mechs on the outside."

"There was no history of drug use in Zel's chart!" Ambulon shouts. "And I found no evidence of this record of the transfer Fissure claims to have been made. The police have yet to present any sort of statement or account of Fissure or Sharpshift surrendering the Stims they confiscated to the local law enforcement!"

"Overseer," an officer says, standing from his seat in the back of the court room, "I was in charge of writing up the report regarding the transfer. It is my fault I did not properly compile the report, but I did oversee the surrender of the Stims by Fissure myself. Extorque had accompanied him as well."

Ambulon widens his optics. "You're lying!" he snarls. "Extorque would have said something! Would have also filed a report!"

"Extorque was quite hush-hush about most of his personal life until the very end, don't you think?" Fissure challenges, smiling. "And we all know he held myself and Sharpshift in contempt."

"Shut up!"

The Overseer slams down his gavel, shouts, "Order, order!" Ambulon forces himself to sit back down, fists clenched tightly. "In regards to the recording," the Overseer continues, "there is little to no evidence to be accounted for."

Ambulon is almost knocked out of his chair from shock. "Are you-- You can't be serious! Did you not listen to the recording!?" he demands.

The Overseer narrows his optics. He waves a hand to the bailiff. The bailiff removes the aforementioned tape from the table of evidence (little as there is) and plays it.

Ambulon thinks this is a nightmare. This must be a nightmare. He must not be awake. Because the tape playing right now is not the tape Extorque gave him; it's not the tape he handed over to the police. It is nothing but warbled noises, unintelligent, indistinguishable voices. Ambulon looks to the Overseer, completely floored, his jaw working open and close. He's speechless.

The tape stops. The Overseer regards Ambulon with a bitter glower, waits for his response.

"That... That's not the tape," Ambulon finally manages to speak, his voice weak. "That isn't-- That's not the tape! _That's not the tape!_ You can clearly hear Sharpshift and Draftwind scheming about killing M-2, M-3, you can-- you can hear them--!"

"This _is_ the tape," the Overseer insists. "The very one you handed over to the case manager. It was analyzed multiple times, with no supporting conclusions to your accusations. The voices have yet to be identified, but they do not belong to Sharpshift and Draftwind, as the technicians have confirmed in their reports."

" _No_!" Ambulon screams, and his fists slam on the desk again. "This is an outrage! They're lying! _You're lying_!" The Overseer nods to the guards stationed at the door; they quickly move over to Ambulon. "Fissure and Sharpshift and Draftwind - they're all guilty! They killed Extorque, like they killed Tune Out and Zel and numerous others! They're criminals! They work for--for Big--"

Sharpshift suddenly bolts from his seat, angrily scowling. "I think this farce has gone on long enough."

The police officers quickly latch onto Ambulon, restraining him.

"You don't--"

"Sharpshift and Fissure have decided to drop their charges against you," the Overseer says, loudly, "and you will undergo seven court mandated sessions with a psychotherapist to determine your future in regards to employment." He pounds the gavel. "Case adjourned." Stands and leaves briskly.

"No!" Ambulon cries, writhing in the guards' arms. They drag him out of the court room, and the last thing he sees are Sharpshift, Fissure, Draftwind, and their representatives celebrating and laughing over their victory and innocence.

\---

"So, Ambulon - doin' anything tomorrow?"

Ambulon turned from his door, Antigen breaking into cackling. "Just kidding, course you are!" The nurse continued snickering; finally, after he sigh, said, "But you get off a groon after I do. You know what we should do?"

Ambulon folded his arms. "What should we--"

"Go to Vixen!" Antigen chirped. "Get ourselves a drink. I can show you around town, and I'll even buy your drink! Just a nice welcoming gift. Whatta say?"

Ambulon thought a moment. "... Sure," he said, though he really did not want to. Not that he minded Antigen, despite his tendency to talk his optic blue, but... The last time he made friends, all of them had died. "I guess. Just one drink, though."

Antigen giggled. "Perfect!" He clapped his hands. "Now, get yourself comfortable, 'cause you got a whooooole lot of work ahead of you!" He left with a little, excited wave, and Ambulon watched him disappear around a corner.

Ambulon stood there outside his room a moment or two. It was quiet in here; the miners were still at work. He stepped inside, shut and locked the door. For added measure, he pulled his desk chair over to barricade it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally played around with the entire Cybertronian law system lol.


End file.
